#i know marriage would only make him a prince consort

[violetrainbow412-blog]

From hate to love… or something like that

Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader

word count: 15.7k (sorrrryyyy)

warnings: arranged marriage, hate-to-love, mentions of rape, mentions of incest, mentions of suicidal thoughts, drinking alcohol, mommy issues, daddy issues, mentions of sex without love, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), porn with plot (but something cheap, tbh) and I probably forgot something but I think that makes it clear that this shit is not for minors, so MINORS DNI :)

A/N: I started this since the second season premiere started so if you find any canon-like scenes I completely promise it wasn't intentional. I also want to make it clear that you are responsible for what you read and if you don't like something please just let it go, that would be very kind of you!

And this doesn't make me team green at all, I'm a defender of the rightful queen to the death… it's just that her brother is too sexy to ignore 🫦

Enjoy!

taglist (who I thought might be interested): @barcelonaloverf1life @ilovequeen978

FIRST ACT: HATE

Finding a wife for Prince Aegon II was probably one of the most difficult tasks Alicent Hightower had to face.

The engagement with his sister Helaena had been broken after a more tempting offer for the princess, which would get them a permanent alliance with the Lannister house that they couldn’t refuse. Viserys himself had agreed to accept and the queen consort had no choice but to give her little daughter in marriage to a blonde lord. The problem was that her son was left without a fiancée.

Aemond didn't worry her, after all he was growing up quite quickly and she knew that he was more inclined to become a warrior than to fulfill his marital responsibilities. But Aegon, however, was a lost cause.

It was no secret that Alicent had always felt disappointed in her eldest son. He was careless, lazy, and a hopeless alcoholic, qualities that couldn’t be celebrated at all. Now that her beloved father had returned, the queen didn’t hesitate to consult him on the matter, hoping that the man had a solution for the problem that afflicted her, and together they analyzed what was the best option to unite the king's first-born son. Especially after, years ago, Rhaenyra and Daemon got married and moved to Dragonstone indefinitely.

“It must be someone we completely trust, someone who cannot dare to hurt us because they know that their blood is linked to ours.”

The Arryns were loyal to the future queen Rhaenyra and some of the houses south of Vale were too. The Westerlands was the richest section of the Seven Kingdoms and was already secured, so it seemed prudent to the king's hand to go for the next widest section: The Reach. The most formidable options within this area were the Hightower and the Tyrell. Obviously taking the first option would be a waste since the members of that house would support Aegon without complaint due to their kinship, so the decision was made with the direct heir of Highgarden.

King Viserys agreed to the idea without putting up many obstacles, since poppy milk clouded his judgment most of the time and also the affairs of his first son had never interested him much.

The union was sealed as soon as the deal was offered to Lyonel Tyrell, who was extremely happy to be able to assure his family a future with said marriage. It was thus that he gave you, his only daughter, to Prince Aegon II Targaryen.

And the second the boy saw you, he absolutely hated you.

He had come to the idea (very unpleasant, by the way) of marrying his younger sister and now that his mother was forcing him to marry a complete stranger, he couldn't be angrier. In a short time he would turn twenty and it seemed pathetic to him that at that point he would have to offer shows like those before the kingdom. Because the wedding wasn’t simple, of course, but thousands and thousands of guests were present at the banquet that Alicent forced the king to prepare, claiming by saying that he had done the same for Princess Rhaenyra's wedding.

“It is a pleasure to finally see each other, your grace. They have told me a lot about you”

You had said those precise words the first time you had met, when his mother organized a walk so that you could 'get to know each other better', although supervised by her own eyes that were behind you, making sure that her son didn’t commit any indecency. But no matter how sweetly you smiled and spoke them, Aegon could sense that you were lying.

There was hatred in your eyes and a clear resentment towards the life from which you were torn, as if it weren’t an honor to have the opportunity to marry the prince of the seven kingdoms. Your hypocritical words represented an insult to the boy and that is why he decided from the first moment that he would hate you deeply.

With your mere existence you would have deprived him of his freedom, his entertainment, his youth. He would be tied to you for future occasions, he would have to take you to all the events, secure your food, your clothes. share the same roof and pretend to be nice to you in the eyes of others. And, besides, he could have thought of a lot of candidates better than you, physically speaking. Your beauty was quite ordinary for his taste, as if he were looking at any painting; cheap and repetitive.

“I regret to admit that I am not so fortunate, Lady Tyrell. But I am happy for the union of our houses” he lied, in the same way that you had done.

And it was obvious that this didn’t go unnoticed by you, that you had the same critical eye as your recent fiancé but that you sought to maintain composure in the presence of your future mother-in-law.

On the wedding day Aegon had a good time only because he was able to drown himself in monumental quantities of liquor and because he was able to eat as much as he wanted of the exquisite banquet. He didn't even pay a bit of attention to how you looked in the wedding dress that the royal seamstresses had been in charge of making in record time, because when the time came he flattered you superficially and then ignored the matter. The ceremony kiss was the first you shared, and it was so fleeting and awkward that the prince felt disappointed. On the wedding night he was so drunk that he didn't even look at you.

You knew that the unfortunate day would come when you would have to carnally please the young man and the simple thought of being defiled in this way caused you terror and nausea in equal parts.

It was a stranger whom you had married, of whom the only thing you knew was his noble title and name.

In the days following your marriage, unfortunately or fortunately, Aegon didn’t even speak to you. You didn't have to share a room, so it was easier for him to completely ignore you while he went about his ways.

You had to admit that the only good thing about having taken this trip was the beautiful landscapes that King's Landing offered you. Your room had a direct view of Blackwater Bay and you spent several days looking out the window at the beautiful sea. Sometimes you could watch Prince Aemond ride his dragon, and honestly, the size of the beast scared you a little. You hadn't had the chance to observe Aegon in Sunfyre yet but if he was as impressive as Vhagar, then he would be quite a sight.

A week passed, then another and another where you were nothing more than a guest in the palace. You didn't talk to anyone, you ate dinner alone, you barely saw the outside of the castle. Sometimes you went to the Sept, pretending to pray, but really just killing the endless boring hours of the day. You were somewhat lucky if you found Helaena, the most sensible and calm within the royal family, because you had pleasant conversations with her. When you met the queen it was a little more difficult, because she asked you endless questions in which you had to fake the answers. How could you be fulfilling your parenting responsibilities if the capricious prince wouldn't deign to lay a finger on you?

After a month, Alicent seemed to take matters into her own hands and forced her eldest son to take you to sleep in the same room as him. However, Aegon seemed to want to blame you for something you hadn't chosen. He never spoke to you and every time you went to bed, he would stand with his back to you as far away as possible. And as if that weren’t enough, he had explicitly ordered his guards not to allow you to leave the room unless it was in his company. It was his way of punishing you, of getting even for the complaints of his mother and grandfather regarding his lack of interest in marriage.

“My mother wants us to attend a dinner tonight” you were so unaccustomed to hearing his voice addressing you that it took you a second to process what he was telling you “I will talk to the maids to bring you a suitable dress.”

You didn't know what to say. You didn't want to go to that dinner, nor did you want to be with him, or wear one of those tight, annoying dresses. Aegon, noticing your silence, deigned to look at you and in your eyes he could see the aversion you felt for him. It was something difficult to mask and he had seen it on so many faces that it was nothing new.

“As you wish, prince.”

A bitter laugh came from your husband's throat.

“Don't be a hypocrite, for God's sake. I know you hate me as much as I hate you. Save appearances for guests, not in the chambers."

You wouldn’t have had the courage to admit out loud what his majesty had said, but you didn’t dare to contradict him either. You had to play the role of a self-sacrificing and suitable wife for the man if you wanted to keep your honor, but above all your head.

You tried, with all your might, to see some quality in Aegon that you liked so that you could treat him in a better way, which always resulted in something useless. Perhaps if he had been nicer to you, you could have known how to forgive his faults, but even that wasn’t granted to you.

The dinner was mostly family-oriented, with the guest of honor being from House Baratheon whose purpose was to discuss some political matters with the king and queen. Due to his health, Viserys didn’t usually leave his room more than necessary, however, that night the occasion warranted it.

“Lady Tyrell, how is your stay in King's Landing?”

The king had a reputation for being gentle with his guests and was the first person to ask you a personal question, so the smile you showed him was genuine.

“Very pleasant, your grace. The servants treat me as well as possible and I must admit that the views from my room are beautiful. Your dragon is impressive, Prince Aemond, by the way.”

The boy, who wasn't all that expressive, just looked at you for a moment and tilted his head down slightly.

“I'm glad you like it, princess.”

"And my son? How is our Aegon treating you?”

That question was more complicated to answer, since it required expressing a lie. Everyone present focused their attention on you, except your husband who had been staring into nothingness for a long time.

“Very well, my king. He’s a good husband and I am happy to have been able to unite our houses.”

The aforementioned snorted, incredulous at what you were saying at the table, and took a long drink from his glass of wine.

“And I hope very soon you can give us strong and beautiful heirs.”

Although that was intended as a compliment, you felt the weight of that responsibility pressing down on you again.

“I wish the same. It will be an honor to serve the crown and bear the progeny of a house as formidable as yours."

The queen was pleased with your answer and for a moment felt sorry for you. She knew her son well, so deep down she knew that it wasn’t a gift from the gods to be married to him. The rest of the table looked at you curiously, wondering if you were serious, trying to be ironic, or just trying to play the good girl role.

Aegon, as expected, became intoxicated during dinner and when Queen Alicent announced that she was going to retire to sleep you thought it prudent to do the same. Your husband, however, had other wishes.

“Stay here,” he asked, his voice serious.

When he was drunk he looked you up and down, probably evaluating how worth it would be to decide to strip you naked and fuck you once and for all. Your body in the dress you were wearing looked better with a few drinks on him.

“I think it would be best to retire, my husband. This way you can stay with the men to chat and… drink”

“But I want you to stay here to keep me company,” he insisted, holding your wrist tightly “Or don't you want to please your prince?”

It wasn’t a loving request, but one for control. He wanted to have you there only to demonstrate his power over you, without paying attention to you or talking; only as an ornament.

“Aegon, enough,” Alicent interrupted, observing the scene that had begun to unfold. “Daughter, let's go to sleep. “I will accompany you”

“Fine, do whatever you want,” he spat contemptuously, abruptly releasing the wrist that was holding you. There was hatred in his eyes, but also pride.

The queen said goodbye to everyone present and then offered you her hand to take you away from there. You spent most of the way in silence, walking through the long, wide corridors of the fortress followed only by the faithful footsteps of Ser Criston Cole.

“You must be patient with him” he began to say “He is a particular man and sometimes… difficult, but I know that with your docile character you will be able to deal with his temperament.”

What did she know about your character? She didn't know you at all.

“So it shall be, Queen Alicent.”

“I understand what you are going through, dear. We both come from the same lands to endure the difficult task of accompanying a monarch. But it is our duty to carry it out with all the honor and temper worthy of our homes. Of course, I can trust that as a woman you will be able to help him fulfill another of the most important marital commitments, such as having children, to maintain the lineage and blood. For a virgin like you, Aegon may be rough, but... patience and resilience are among the best virtues. A woman in royalty must endure these things to give the best to the people.”

You had never wanted to be a princess. And just when you thought the queen was showing you compassion, you realized that she was only looking out for her interests and those of her family.

"Thanks for the advice. I'll keep it in mind"

She smiled and immediately left a kiss on your forehead, which could have been taken as a maternal kiss but which you didn't like at all. The longer you can postpone suffering, the better. If Aegon didn't even want to look at you, it was perfect.

That night, as soon as you touched the mattress and the silk sheets that decorated it, you began to cry until you fell asleep.

SECOND ACT: CONTROL

Time passed again and although the punishment of not leaving your room was not revoked, you found multiple activities with which to entertain yourself in the prince's absence. You filled your mornings and afternoons with reading, writing, knitting and embroidering. The nights were even more boring because most of the time your husband wasn't there either.

Rumors that you hadn’t yet consummated the marriage had spread through the halls of the palace and soon the smallfolk would murmur too. After all, the people couldn’t entertain themselves with anything more than the gossip and the plays that were going on in the poor neighborhoods, making fun of royal affairs.

You no longer even had the energy to deny those accusations and Aegon had given you the perfect opportunity by throwing you out of his room and refusing to leave the four walls of yours: if you didn't leave there, there was no way anyone would question you. And since you didn't have family inside the Keep, you didn't have any visitors either.

One night, however, your husband surprised you by entering your room. It had been days since you two had seen each other and his staggering around the room warned you that he was drunk again. You often wondered how he resisted drinking so much and the long-term effects it would have on his health, but right now your mind could only focus on the fear of what he might want in that state.

“Good night, dear,” he drawled, sounding as sarcastic as possible.

You were in your nightgown and you were carrying in your hand an old book that you had been reading and that you threw on the nightstand as soon as you saw him approaching you. You didn't have time to say or do anything else when he had already approached you in giant steps to grab you by the back of your neck and start kissing you. He was abrupt, careless, with his mouth smelling of wine and tasting even worse. You wanted to cry from helplessness.

“It's what everyone wants, isn't it?” he murmured, separating himself from you, but still holding you by the hair at the back of your neck. “A marriage arranged in a couple of days to form alliances. And that's it, my life was ruined thanks to my father wanting your stupid castle to expand his domain."

The truth is that couldn't be further from the truth. Viserys’s ambition had never been that, as he had been so little involved in the process that he simply didn’t care who his children were or were not married to. Except for Rhaenyra, of course.

Aegon continued:

"I didn’t want this. I didn't want to marry you, or anyone..."

“And you think I do?” you confronted him.

You were tired of the insult, the humiliation and him ignoring you as if you were worthless; even if that was what a husband did. And the most likely thing was that your words would be forgotten due to alcohol or that they would put an end to the wait for your suffering to begin and Aegon decided to take you once and for all.

“You have nothing to lose, prince,” you continued. “You get drunk as much as you want, you run away from your responsibilities and walk everywhere when I have to stay locked up here all day just because you want me to. I have to endure the suspicious looks of everyone because I still don't have an heir in the womb while you go and fuck your whores."

“I'm the prince and I fuck whoever I want, did you hear me?” he hissed. The grip on your hair had already begun to become painful and a few tears slipped down your cheeks “And I stop fucking whoever I want too. I'm not going to please anyone by getting you pregnant. There they will see if they come and force me to put my cock in you”

“Do you doubt that, your grace?” you exclaimed bitterly “Doubts that will force us to conceive?”

“So that's what you want? Do you want me to do it?”

“I want to go home. That is what I want. But my father used me as a bargaining chip and that's why I can't do anything."

“I'm sorry it was like that. If I had chosen my wife, I would surely have chosen someone prettier and more educated than you, but I can't do much either."

Once again, the man pushed you until your lips joined his and the same discomfort settled in you. He didn't kiss you with love, but with fury and violence to the point that you had to push him away when he bit you so hard that a trickle of blood began to come out of your lower lip. Aegon was also stained by it and with an acidic smile he ran the tip of his tongue all over his mouth to remove any traces.

Looking at you he didn't look happy, but he didn't look angry either. He just seemed fed up.

Everyone knew, or suspected, that the prince was very capable of taking sexual advantage of any woman. He had done it before with maids and prostitutes and had slept peacefully throughout that time. However, there was something about you that encouraged him not to. He didn't even think it was something about you specifically but about the situation, because he wanted to do the opposite of what he was ordered: if everyone ordered him to take you to have an heir, it automatically became an unpleasant act and at the same time that he refused.

He was hurt, not because of you but because of years and years of abuse and neglect. He didn't really know you at all, he only knew what you represented.

You were just the unlucky one who had married him.

"I hate you. I hate that you are my wife and you are not worthy of me even touching you” he snapped with disdain. You were still fighting to keep the tears inside your eyes and his vision had also blurred slightly “I wish I had never met you.”

“The feeling is mutual, your grace,” you expressed, your voice breaking. If it was an offense to the crown, you wouldn't even care anymore and if he killed you right there you wouldn't regret it too much either.

Aegon looked at you one last time before staggering back out the door without another word, closing it behind him with a loud gesture and leaving you alone in the room. The reality that you had escaped, once again, from being raped by the man fell on you like a bucket of cold water and your knees weakened until you fell to the floor.

You were hurt, tired, and defeated by the stress of the situation and the fear that had washed over you the entire time. Luckily he was gone, otherwise you didn't know if you would have endured what he had to do to you. It was better to have him busy in a brothel than to have to endure him in your bed.

You wished you could talk to someone and cry on a loved one’s shoulder, only to realize a second later that that was impossible. Aegon was your new family, now you belonged to the Targaryens and you would have to do as they wished.

Anger completely overwhelmed you to the point where you stood up from your seat and began throwing pieces of glassware all over the room, in a violent outburst at what had just happened and the way you felt. None of the guards outside your door dared to come in to check on you and soon enough you fell back to the ground, exhausted from the effort.

As you cried, perhaps for the umpteenth time since you had been married, you thought about how you would never be able to love Prince Aegon. Not even if you tried.

THIRD ACT: PAIN

After months, the inevitable arrived. The truth was that the first time you felt sorrow and anger, but the following times it became more tolerable. Not because it was better, but because you began to get used to it. Aegon didn't change his attitude towards you one bit. You indeed spent more time together, although that didn’t mean that you got along better or that you had begun to have more sympathy for each other.

The only advantage was that you had started to be friends with some people in the palace. Your sister-in-law, to begin with, as well as some of the maids who were in charge of looking after you, as they turned out to be your only company during those days. Those distractions were more than enough for you, considering the situation you were in, and they kept you sane as time went by.

Almost like a punishment from heaven, it seemed that you weren’t pregnant yet, since your biological processes seemed to continue working to the letter. That meant that, unfortunately, you would have to keep trying; when Aegon was lost enough to forget who you were and you had to stand still as a statue to let him loom over you.

You often liked to imagine what your life would have been like if you had stayed in Highgarden. Nobody knew it yet, but there you had found your first love and although it never went beyond a few kisses, you treasured the memory with particular affection. You had always wanted to marry a sweet man who loved and respected you, who would give you your place as a wife and adore you day and night; someone with whom you could feel protected, cared for, but above all happy. You thought, naively, that that boy you had met and who was nothing more than a commoner could have given you that life, but all those possibilities were nothing more than fantasies in which you tried to lock yourself in to feel less miserable with your unpleasant reality.

One night Helaena had invited you to a modest dinner in her company that you couldn't refuse, since none of your husbands were present and some time with friends could clear your mind. You didn't even know where the prince was, although it was expected that he was spending some time in the town with his friends.

“Sometimes I feel sad about our situation,” said the blonde. You were in the privacy of her chambers, not even with the maids present, so confessions like that were allowed “But I am happy that you are my friend, something that wouldn’t have been possible otherwise.”

“I'm glad to talk to you too,” you smiled sincerely. “You're the best thing I've found around here.”

“My brothers aren't that bad, they're just… well, we've had a hard life. And that's why they behave like that."

“I think there is no justification for being a…” idiot, you wanted to say, but you had to remember that you were in the presence of the princess, “a person who is rude to others. But I guess that happens with royalty, right? They do what they want without consequences”

"I guess so. Kings, princes, the heirs, lords, dukes…”

“Okay, I get it,” you laughed bitterly “It's probably a masculine quality.”

You never thought your sister-in-law would have that kind of humor and to be honest, most of the time she was a comic relief for the situations you two were going through. Sometimes her prophecies scared you, especially the way she phrased them, but you wanted to think that her premonitions would never affect you directly.

When you finally got tired of chatting and the food was finished, you decided to return to your room, so you could have a peaceful night's rest. It was raining outside and thunder echoed in the distance, making the atmosphere slightly gloomy, but at the same time cooling every corner of King's landing.

The novelty of your position was no longer important enough to require you to be escorted by guards twenty-four hours a day, so you were able to slowly walk through all the corridors that led to your sanctuary. It was modest but cute, although not on the level of Aegon’s.

A man was guarding the door and you bowed your head to him to let you pass, which he did without any opposition. Once inside you got rid of your shoes and unbuttoned your corset, not caring that the room was almost in darkness; only the moonlight illuminated from the window. You took a few steps forward and squealed when you discovered that there was another person in the room, sitting at the small table with a drink in his hand. You would have started screaming for help if you hadn't noticed that said intruder had silver hair falling like a curtain over his face.

"Your grace?" you asked cautiously.

It isn’t usual for Aegon to drink in your room, as he preferred other places with more interesting company, and when you didn’t receive an answer you approached slowly. You thought that at best he had simply fallen asleep and at worst he would be dead.

At first his long, wavy hair covered your view of his face, but when he noticed your presence he raised his head and then you could see him. His features became clearer as lightning illuminated him from the outside and for a second you were horrified.

His cheek was red and a trickle of blood was dripping from his nose, however, what surprised you the most was seeing his eyes completely swollen.

“For the seven, I… I'll go call a maester”

“Don't even think about it,” he exclaimed hoarsely, seeing that you were already rushing towards the door.

Your husband didn't sound like his usual angry tone, but rather he seemed... hurt.

You thought for a second about what the appropriate reaction to the situation was. You couldn't leave the room because, in addition to the guards murmuring, it would be impolite to leave him in that state; also, where would you go? If you ignored him, he would probably take it as an insult and he had already made it clear that he didn't want to see someone who could take care of those injuries.

You hated him, it was true, but you weren't an insensitive monster either.

"Who did this to you?"

Aegon was surprised by how soft, even kind, your question sounded and the intoxication gave him some courage to answer.

“My mother and my grandfather. Mostly my mother, my grandfather rather dedicated his efforts to reminding me how useless I am”

You didn't know what to say. You never believed that the queen would be capable of hitting one of her sons like that. You didn't believe it from any mother, actually.

With some trepidation you took one of the chairs and placed it in front of him, expecting him to immediately push you away or ask you to get out of his sight. However, the prince didn't seem to have enough energy to do any of those things.

He had a lost look on his face and tears began to run down his face.

“Nothing… nothing I do pleases her. Neither to her, nor to my grandfather. All the time they are pressuring me, demanding me, yelling at me. Apparently Otto still hopes that my father will name me king, but I've never wanted that. They blame me for drinking all the time and how do they expect them not to? My father cares so little about me and my mother hates me. All his life he has hated me. She does it, my brothers… and so do you. My own wife hates me. Everyone… everyone who knows me does it”

You were silent for a moment.

There were mixed feelings inside you, because you couldn't forget the mistreatment that the man had given you during those months, nor the way he used you for his pleasure. He was right when he said you hated him. However, there was a compassionate part of you, deep down, that felt sorry for the man's state.

“And sometimes I just want to be dead. I just wish all the shit would go away and drowning in alcohol and dying would take away Alicent's problem and allow her to focus her attention on something better”

His gaze lifted and he looked at you with crystallized eyes.

“Maybe you should poison me one day. So your suffering would also end”

“Your highness, I cannot do that”

“But would you like it? Do you hate me enough to wish me dead?”

“Of course not,” you said quickly.

"Liar. You lie like everyone else. You want me dead”

You knew that saying something negative at that moment, in the state he was in, could result in him making some incoherence that you would be blamed for the next morning. So it was best to act cautiously.

“I don't think anyone wants that”

“My mother does. My father, Rhaenyra does it, and so does her stupid new husband…”

“Your grace…” you interrupted him harshly. Listening to him sink into his self-indulgence was too much to bear “You better go to sleep, don't you think? Now you're not thinking clearly, you'll feel better in the morning."

But Aegon seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to anything you had to say to him.

“I guess I just wish someone wouldn't completely detest my existence, you know?”

Aegon had done terrible things to you, of course, but seeing him at that moment made you wonder if all of this was the product of poor parenting and psychological abuse that had been perpetuated for twenty long years. You couldn't say your father loved you, not after what he had done, but at least he hadn't constantly hurt you as the man in front of you had. You knew better than anyone that hate had to be healed with empathy and for a brief moment you felt soft for him.

Once Aegon was a small child, without sins, without accumulated hatred, without evil... and apparently that frightened child hadn’t been completely buried, because it was him who cried inconsolably and saw death as a viable alternative to end that suffering. However, there is no redemption without guilt, right? You don't get to heaven without first repenting.

You stayed silent for a long time, listening to him sob, and when you gathered the courage you spoke:

“Prince, can I be honest with you?”

You had spoken in a low and benevolent voice, while you slid from your chair until you were kneeling in front of him. The boy didn't even want to take advantage of that position for a sexual act, he was simply too tired and drained to think. You placed your hands on his knees and seeing that he nodded, you continued:

“You say you wish someone wouldn't hate you, but have you ever made an effort to do so? Or have you even wondered why people feel that way about you?”

“It's something natural for them”

“I didn't feel it,” you said, honestly. You hated the idea of getting married out of obligation, but if he had been different from the beginning maybe your feelings for him would be too “And you made me feel it. With your contempt, your humiliations, your punishments…”

“If everyone thinks you're a monster, what's the point of contradicting them?”

“And then you prefer to agree with them?”

You were probably taking too many liberties with the prince, but you would never have a chance to talk to him like that again. He was vulnerable and therefore less defensive than normal.

“Every person is responsible for their actions,” you continued. “You can't change how the queen or king feels about you, but you can choose to offer something better to others. If it’s your desire that people not hate you, that won’t happen overnight just because you tell it to. It takes time, effort and above all it requires kindness. If you live regretting the concept that people have of you, without doing anything to change it, then you will live a lifetime of dissatisfaction. If you seriously want someone to feel happy about your existence then pursue that goal, don’t expect it to be granted to you as a divine work.”

A deeper cry began to well up from the man and you almost thought he would lean down for your hug. Still, he didn't.

“I don't know how to be someone else. I have always been this”

“Not always, that's for sure. Water that stagnates rots and becomes a swamp. The one that runs, on the other hand, becomes a river and flows into the ocean.”

You raised the handkerchief you always carried and, in an act of kindness that was also intended to be an offering of peace, you gently wiped the tears and dried blood from his face. Aegon squirmed as he had never experienced that kind of care.

“You just have to ask yourself: what do you choose to be?”

For an endless moment he watched you. His judgment was clouded by drunkenness, but he wondered if he wasn't hallucinating and you were simply the voice of his conscience telling him something he had never wanted to accept.

It was easier to blame others for his mistakes, to justify himself by saying that everything about him was his mother's fault and that if he behaved the way he did it was only a defense mechanism. Aegon had never thought about how his treatment of women was a direct consequence of Alicent's upbringing: if his own mother had hurt him, why wouldn't other women do the same to him? And since he was convinced that they were all going to do it, he preferred to turn them into objects that he could use for his benefit.

He was so drunk and so exhausted from all the crying he had shed that he simply pushed your hand away from his face and stood up from the chair, without saying a word. You, now standing, saw him begin to undress and the first thing you thought was that he would seek to heal his sorrows by having sex with you. However, he only got rid of the essentials and then lay on his stomach on the bed. Without any choice, you took off your clothes for the day, put on a nightgown and also lay down on the mattress to sleep.

You were sure that the next day Aegon wouldn’t remember anything and you weighed the possibility of the whole story repeating itself, in an endless and painful loop for the two of you. And if you were right, it would be a shame if you had to live like this for the rest of your days.

FOURTH ACT: REDEMPTION

“Do you know where Meryna is?” you asked one of the maids who had come in to change your bedding.

“No, your grace”

“I'm starting to get hungry and she still hasn't brought my breakfast,” you exclaimed sadly.

You had woken up a while ago and had gotten dressed to go for a walk after eating, to see if this would cheer you up a little. It had been a few days since Aegon had opened up in the privacy of your room and after that you had barely seen him, much less spoken to him. You believed that everything was due to a matter of pride or even shame for what you had witnessed and you simply didn’t give it importance, because you knew that eventually he would approach you again. You just had to wait for him to want to do it.

Almost as if by summons, the black-haired girl appeared through the door, looking agitated and embarrassed by the delay. Furthermore, she came empty-handed.

"Princess…"

“Didn't you bring breakfast?” you asked, still sounding cordial but slightly surprised.

“I'm very sorry, it's just that Prince Aegon asked me to bring the food to the royal dining room. He is waiting for you there, he told me to come and get you.”

He hadn’t mentioned requiring your presence for any breakfast and, according to you, there were no guests in the palace to accompany. The two women noticed your dismay and Meryna stood waiting for a response.

“Did he tell you why?”

“No, your grace”

"Good. Then tell him I'll be there in a moment."

You only took a few minutes to change your dress, one more suitable for being in the presence of the prince and in case there was a guest you didn't know about. There were no guards at your door so you were able to walk to the dining room by yourself and were surprised to see that only your husband was at the table. He had an expression that you interpreted as a mix of impatience and nerves.

“Oh, you finally arrived. Sit down. You, bring the princess something to drink,” he ordered a maid. He used to call you that in the presence of guests, but it was rare for him to have that courtesy when alone.

“Are we waiting for someone?”

"No. I just thought you might want to have breakfast together.”

You were already sitting next to him, and for a second you watched him with a frown. Had he hit his head somewhere or why was he acting so strange?

“Do you prefer juice or wine, your highness?

"Juice"

“And bring her some strawberries,” Aegon exclaimed.

There was something about the situation that scared you, because you imagined that he wouldn't be treating you so kindly without wanting something in return. But you were already his wife and he did whatever he wanted with you, what more could he want from you?

You looked him up and down, as if searching for some sign, but he looked completely normal. He was wearing one of those full black robes he was used to, with a golden chain with emeralds decorating the hem of his neck and a belt accentuating his figure. The dark circles in his eyes were pronounced, as always, but the look was not that of someone angry; you would even say that he looked somewhat passive, even sleepy.

While you were thinking about all that, you remembered the last conversation you had had with him. You feared that madness had finally exploded in your husband and the food you were about to eat was poisoned, as he had suggested at the time. Perhaps out of courtesy he was waiting for you to take the first bite and, trying to control the trembling in your hands, you took a portion of the cold cuts on your plate to put it in your mouth. Luckily the food didn't taste different and after seeing that the man ate it with the utmost calmness, you assumed that it didn't contain any poison either.

There was freshly baked bread, jam, some cheeses, the aforementioned cold cuts, a variety of fruits, scrambled eggs with fresh herbs and chives, as well as some stuffed buns for dessert. It was a mini banquet and as you ate it you couldn't help but wonder why this show of kindness was due.

Aegon didn't seem to have any intention of talking and you didn't try to force him, not wanting to either. The atmosphere was one of peace and tranquility, one you had not experienced since your wedding day until now, and it was a very different but strangely pleasant feeling.

It was just a couple sharing breakfast time, but for two people who come from such a broken home it felt like a totally new experience.

You continued in silence until most of the things served were finished, leaving only what wasn’t to your palate's liking or that your body was simply no longer able to ingest.

“Do you need anything else, your majesty?”

“Clear this table, we won't eat anymore,” he said to the maid, nonchalantly pointing to the leftovers you had left. Then he looked at you “Satisfied?”

"I am. Everything was delicious”

“I want us to do the same tomorrow. I will send a maid for you, so get ready soon,” he said decisively.

Then he got up from his chair, stretched a little, and left the room without saying anything else to you.

You didn't see your husband the rest of the day, but the next morning he kept his promise without fail. Although the breakfast menu was different the routine was the same and again it made you wonder what the reason for it was.

The next day he also requested your presence for breakfast and you concluded that he intended to make it a habit. For the rest of the morning you were supposed to dedicate yourself to your activities, but after a week of following that routine Aegon informed you that he had other plans for you.

“I want you to come with me for a walk.”

"To the exterior?"

"Yeah. I have training with Ser Criston but I don't wish to attend, so you will be my excuse. I'll tell him that the princess wanted to go for a walk and that I couldn't let her go alone."

He was telling you that lie almost like a childish prank and you would swear he was about to smile.

“Huh, okay. If you want it, we will”

You were still confused by his actions, because in all the time you had been there it was the first time he treated you decently. You didn't know if he was still drinking in large quantities, but at least when he went to sleep he no longer reeked of liquor in the same way. And all that week he hadn't forced you to have sex with him.

What had motivated the prince to change his way of behaving towards you?

"Do you want to go to the beach? I will order a couple of horses to be saddled for us” he exclaimed when you had already left the dining room.

You couldn't refuse to go to the bay, because in your entire life you had never seen the ocean and your curiosity was greater than any other feeling. Besides, you loved horses, and being with them might even make you feel better.

Aegon did as he told you and soon enough you were in the stable. He had ordered a beautiful white mare for you, with a silver mane the color of your husband's hair and a formidable build.

You approached to pet the animal, carefully, and tensed completely when you felt another body behind yours. Until that moment you hadn't realized how warm your husband was.

“She's pretty, right?”

His voice sounded at your ear level, as he had also reached out to touch Frostfire’s hair.

"She is"

“I guess you know how to ride,” he muttered under his breath and you let out an offended sigh.

“Of course I do. Highgarden is the heart of the chivalry of the seven kingdoms”

After saying that you turned your head just a little and met his gaze, indigo eyes with hints of lilac looking at you carefully. You could feel his breath against yours and at that closeness your cheeks had already turned red involuntarily.

He separated from you and then went to choose his horse, a black thoroughbred with beautiful braids, to get on it and ask the guards to open the door for you. You almost managed to sneak away, but Ser Criston stopped the two of you just before you could do so, claiming that he had a scheduled practice with the prince.

“I'm taking my wife to Blackwater, she hasn't had a chance to visit since her arrival.”

“But your grace, your father…”

“We will continue with training later, Ser Criston,” he said firmly.

“Will you go to Blackwater without an escort?”

“I will”

"That's impossible"

“Don't worry, I don't want to be accompanied. Just rest for now.”

“But you are the prince.”

"Exactly. I am the prince and I want my orders to be respected."

The boy was a smug son of a bitch when he put his mind to it, just like now. The man had no choice but to obey the words and then the two of you were able to leave. You could get there on foot, but Aegon had felt like riding and had wanted an alternative to quickly escape if something went wrong.

You walked along a path that still belonged to the Red Keep grounds, so there was no great danger of being attacked along the way, and you soon reached the bay. It was even more beautiful up close and as soon as you got off the mare you forgot any courtesy towards your husband, as you rushed towards the shore to watch the waves crash. Your pumps and dress were soaked when the water reached your calves, but it didn't bother you too much because you were happy for the reason.

“Have you never been to the ocean?”

“I'm afraid not, your grace. There was never any business that required me to be on the coast of The Reach and I have always lived surrounded by hills and forests. I had seen some rivers, but…”

Before you could continue your story you staggered because of a wave and to avoid falling you tried to hold on to whatever was within reach, which turned out to be the man next to you. He supported you from the elbows with his strong arms.

“Oh, I'm so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he laughed. For the first time in your presence, he had laughed “But we should get away from the shore. I wouldn't want to take you back to the castle all soaked”

You heeded the boy's advice and, still leaning on him, walked towards the sand. The sky was slightly cloudy, so the weather was perfect for walking around without any discomfort.

“I've never visited Highgarden, is it as impressive as rumored?” he asked, as he began to walk in the opposite direction of the Red Keep.

Although you never believed that the prince would be interested in such things, you began to talk to him about your hometown with particular emotion. You told him about his surroundings, about the castle and you also told in greater detail the gardens that once belonged to you and were full of golden roses, as was the emblem of your house.

You were surprised by how attentive the boy was to everything you had to say to him and for the first time since your arrival, you didn't feel like a stranger in your own skin. Talking about your home was like remembering a part of yourself, as if you were showing him your insides through stories of the beautiful hills where you had ridden so many times.

“Everything sounds wonderful,” he concluded. The sea breeze had already ruffled both of your hair and he took advantage of this to brush a strand out of your face “Someday I should go visit it”

“Yes, maybe you would like that” you exclaimed smiling. You had come too far and it was time to walk back, towards where you had left Frostfire and Moonshadow tied up “Your grace, may I ask you a question?”

"Yeah"

You opened your mouth to ask him why he was doing all that and why he had suddenly started showing so much interest in you. You wanted to know the reason for his unexpected kindness and his abstinence from activities that weren’t very pleasant for you. But before you could speak, you took a moment to observe him. His skin looked paler in the light outside and his silver hair waved in the wind, however, what caught your attention the most was the serene expression on his face.

Although you couldn't say that you knew Aegon, the time you had lived together had shown you that his personality was extremely challenging. If you pointed out that he was being nicer to you and questioned him about it, he would most likely revert to his old behavior towards you simply on a whim. So no, you couldn't ask him about anything or you'd ruin the minuscule part of a good relationship you had managed to build.

“I was thinking... Do you think we can one day bring golden roses to the royal gardens? Green and gold are part of your emblem too and that would beautify the place. I could take care of them, if you want.”

“That's a good idea,” he exclaimed happily. You had already turned around to return and you calculated that it must be after noon “I will order them to be brought in as soon as possible, in the hope that the hot weather at King's landing will not ruin them”

“I hope not,” you said, although a little less enthusiastic than before.

You had been lost in thought after the appearance of that question that you did not verbalize and suddenly Aegon feared that he had made some mistake. You walked a few meters in silence, until this state was unbearable for his majesty and he stopped you by holding your shoulders. You were about to ask what had happened when he pulled you against his lips, stealing your breath. It was still a rough kiss, but this time less desperate than before. His hands went down to your waist and held you to his body until there wasn’t even a centimeter of distance left, with your belly touching the heat of his stomach.

“Still no signs that you are pregnant?”

You thought that, perhaps, your answer was in that question and that the only thing the man wanted was to convince you to hurry up the matter of producing an heir.

“I'm sorry to say no. It's very unfortunate."

“We'll have to keep trying,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as if he wanted to downplay the matter “Mother insists on it.”

“Has your mother always been like this to you?”

"What are you talking about?"

“It's just… she seems to have everything under control all the time.”

You couldn't be further from the truth and rather than describing it that way Aegon would have said that she was controlling. She wanted to have things under control, but she couldn't and as an example was the eldest prince himself, whom she had never been able to persuade to behave the way he did.

“Well, she is the queen. I guess that's how she must be” he exclaimed without much encouragement. He was still holding you by the waist and was surprised by how intimate that position was. “But we better get back, they must be wondering where we are”

“Maybe they even think I ran away, taking advantage of the fact that you weren't there to watch me,” you joked.

"Would you do it?"

"Do what?"

“Run away”

You looked at the man, incredulous, because it was stupid to think that if you were planning to run away you would just tell him like that. That was the characteristic of it, that it was surprising and hidden.

“Why would I do, your grace?”

“Maybe because I'm a bad husband,” he said quietly. You weren't understanding the game Aegon was playing and it was driving you crazy.

“I wouldn't dare do it. I have nowhere to go and I know I couldn't even get through the doors without your majesty noticing,” you replied.

The prince didn’t want pragmatic reasons like that, but rather his question was more aimed at whether it was your will to abandon him.

Against all odds a couple of raindrops began to fall and very soon a storm had already brewed over your head. It was useless to run, but you did it anyway and Aegon held your hand to prevent either of you from falling due to a trip. Somewhere along the way you lost one of your pumps and at this you began to laugh and he, infected by your joy, did the same. It amused you greatly to think of the face the queen would make when she saw you enter the castle, with her eldest son soaked from head to toe and your clothing incomplete. But you also laughed from the joy of feeling so alive in that moment. You felt like a girl playing in the rain and despite the coldness of the falling water, you felt a certain warmth traveling from the tips of your fingers to your chest.

Although he was sure that you were an excellent rider, your husband insisted on taking you on his own horse to avoid any accidents and you agreed without complaint. His body sheltered you all the way to the Red Keep and once there, under the roof, he helped you down from the chair with extreme care. You didn't think he was that strong until you felt him grab your waist and place you on the floor effortlessly.

“Ask the maids to prepare a bath for you, or you will catch a cold,” he said, putting on your back a cloak he had found hanging on one of the walls.

There was the hint of a smile on his face and seeing him behave like this towards you made you feel weird. You almost felt like he was trying to be affectionate with you, even though he wasn't quite succeeding.

“You should do the same,” you exclaimed softly.

Motivated by the kind moment you had shared, you reached out to brush away the wet hair that had stuck to his face and he shivered at your touch. It was the first time you touched him that way, out of conviction and with care.

“Your majesty, Lord Hand is looking for you. He says he needs to talk to you urgently."

“My grandfather,” he sighed at you, as if wanting to apologize for the words the guard behind you had just said.

He gave the man Moonshadow's reins and then explained that someone had to go get the horse you had left in the bay, so you assumed your presence there was no longer necessary. You were about to leave when he stopped you, grabbing your arm somewhat roughly and looking at you with a feeling that you couldn't decipher.

“I'll go to your room tonight,” he informed.

You felt a little disappointed by the reality of having to share a bed with him, after so long without having done so, but you were grateful that he was at least warning you.

You nodded your goodbyes and he did the same, forming an unspoken agreement. You thought maybe that was why he had been polite to you, so he could get back under your bed sheets. But there was no point in doing it, he wasn't courting you to win your hand, but you were already his wife and he had made it very clear that he could do with you whatever he wanted.

Still a little confused, you were escorted to your bedroom, where you hoped that a tub with hot water and essences would be enough to appease all those doubts that were growing in you.

FIFTH ACT: LOVE

At some point Aegon would get tired of all this, you were sure. But while that moment arrived, you were thoroughly enjoying all kinds of attention you received from your husband. He kept his promise to bring golden roses for the gardens and although the queen wasn’t very happy, in the end they adorned some of the busiest sections of the place. You took that as an act of good faith, so you thought that maybe the thought of repaying him for some of the decency he was showing you wouldn't kill you.

There wasn’t a single breakfast that you skipped, except when the prince was required for political matters or had to travel. You were too proud to admit that you had begun to genuinely enjoy his company, as you still had some distrust due to how temperamental the man was. It wasn't all sunshine and flowers, as the young man still had some outbursts that made you fear him and reminded you that this was who you were really talking to.

His drinking habits hadn’t changed much, since although he was able to handle it during the first week after that period, it was inevitable that he would go back to his old ways and drink an entire jug of wine in a couple of minutes. With sex it was the same, because he continued to fuck you without signs of care and regularly when he was lost in drink. It amused you to think that perhaps that was the reason why you still didn't carry a child in your womb; that he was too drunk when you tried to be of any use.

However, as your relationship strengthened you could notice slight (you almost swore they were imaginary) changes when having sex. He was no longer as rough towards your body as before and tried to thrust into you a little slower, as if he wanted to lengthen the moment and not just unload into you and sleep like a baby after that. Maybe it was just that the drink made him lethargic, but he had even started seeking your lips in the middle of the act or kissing everything within reach of the skin on your neck. You didn't intend to spend much time analyzing his behavior because for you it already represented a victory that he had stopped hurting you after every time you had sex and, honestly, you didn't want to inquire about it. Once again you thought it was more prudent not to question the prince and simply let him continue behaving that way.

Until one night, things looked different for you.

When you heard your husband open the door, quite late at night, and saw him approach your bed, you knew that the same dynamic of nighttime visits would take place. Aegon, already hard as a rock, would kiss you a few times, undress, order you to undress, and then position on top of you to satisfy himself. Needless to say, under the confidence that being in the dark gave you and your husband's lack of interest, you looked away or concentrated on something else while your martyrdom was carried out. He would finish, lie naked next to you, and then sleep soundly with no memory the next morning of what had happened.

Aegon called your name, just to check that you were awake or otherwise wake you up, and you were surprised to hear that his voice sounded quite normal. He wasn't slurring his words like usual.

"Your grace?" you called back, propping yourself up on your elbows so you could look at him.

He did what was expected and as soon as he was far enough away, he started kissing you. You must have known something was wrong from that first moment, when he grabbed your cheek with his wide hand and offered you the most passionate kiss you had ever had. It is reiterated that Aegon was always somewhat careless in intimacy, but this first contact hadn’t felt as impatient as others, but rather was something more careful and planned.

Only one other man had kissed you like that in your life and although the feeling brewing in your chest must have been pleasant, the truth was that it wasn't. You had endured too much abuse from the white-haired man so your body didn't know how to react otherwise. That's why when he continued kissing you for longer than usual and then laid you down meekly, you couldn't do anything but tense uncomfortably.

You were only in your nightgown so there wasn't much difficulty in sliding the straps to the side, almost exposing your tits. Suddenly Aegon lowered his kisses to your neck, where his stubble scratched your skin. Knowing that he would be busy in that area, you turned your head away to focus your gaze on a tapestry on the wall. However, you got a surprise when you felt the prince move away from you and then a bigger one when he took your face between his fingers, placing his index finger and thumb on each of your cheeks to force you to look at him. At first you thought there was anger in his eyes, but after looking at them for a second more you concluded that the feeling was more like that of someone insulted. And why? you asked yourself. What had you done that had offended the prince?

“Why are you looking away?”

His question had a certain aggressive tone, but, at the same time, he sounded hurt. With that you confirmed that he wasn’t drunk or that, if he was, he had drunk just enough to make him feel slightly dizzy. You couldn't tell the way your eyes looked at him, but Aegon interpreted your expression as one of disdain.

Unbeknownst to you, he had his own whirlwind of feelings inside him, one that was driving him crazy and causing him to look you up and down while still holding you. He’d never been like this on another night, so you were at the mercy of knowing how good or bad that would turn out.

Suddenly he seemed upset, you would even say disgusted, and surprisingly stood up from his position. The cold air hit you where he had been before and you sat on the bed to watch him, completely confused by the way he was behaving.

"What's going on…?"

“You don't want this,” he spoke firmly. It was obvious that you didn't want to and you wondered how he had barely realized it. “Not like that… I… no. Not this way"

His babbling confused you even more and when you saw him walk away with exaggerated steps until he left through the door, you couldn't help but feel totally amazed.

What was the reason for what your husband had just done?

The feeling of being abandoned was more hopeless than having him fuck you would have been, and for a moment you even felt ashamed. Maybe he didn't like you anymore or he would just go and cure his frustration in the bed of a woman you didn't know.

He had watched you very strangely and the whole scene wasn't like him. You even pinched yourself just to check that it wasn't some strange dream, getting a moan of pain in response to your question. You thought that perhaps you were acting impulsively, but barely a minute later you put on a green robe over your nightgown and headed towards the door, still not knowing exactly what you were going to do.

“Where are you going, your grace?” the guard on duty asked, putting his voluptuous body in your way.

“Prince Aegon, do you know where he went?”

“In that direction, your majesty. But I'm afraid I must recommend that you return to your room, it is dangerous to walk around the palace at this time."

“But I wish to see my husband,” you said firmly.

The man let out a sigh and then slid to the side of the hallway, leaving you a clear path. Even so, when you started walking you felt his footsteps following you because he probably wanted to make sure that something didn't happen to you. You walked for a while, but you knew it was useless when all you found were locked doors that you couldn't knock on and that you couldn't open either. If Aegon was in any of those rooms, you wouldn't know it. Defeated, you returned to your room and, as expected, found it empty again.

The next morning there wasn’t a single word about that event, but it was present in your mind throughout the day. You had already lived with him enough to realize that something was bothering him, however, upon noticing that he was less talkative during your usual breakfast, you decided to give him time.

You were about to leave the table when he stopped you, asking you to take your seat again and looking at you seriously.

“I have to travel for a couple of weeks,” he informed you. You were surprised to hear that he almost sounded sad “The king is required on some business and since my father can no longer travel, I will have to do it.”

“I hope the entire journey is favorable and the visit profitable, your grace,” you exclaimed cordially. However, your husband didn��t seem pleased with it.

One of his hands slid to hold yours, with a strength that surprised you. There was urgency in his grip, like he needed to hold on to something.

“Is that all you have to say?”

A couple of wrinkles appeared on your brow, as you clearly weren't understanding what he expected of you. Accompanying him would be reckless and you didn't know if he wanted you to keep him there at King's landing.

During those last months something had changed in the man's face, because those eyes surrounded by purple marks no longer saw you with the same aversion as the first time. And it disheartened Aegon that his attempts to please you were yielding no apparent fruit. He was giving you time, effort, and being kind to you like you had said was necessary, but he still couldn't help but feel that you still considered him a stranger.

He had been patient because he thought that, as time went by, you would begin to seek him out or not shy away from his touch. Aegon cared a lot about the physical, so every time he sneaked into your room he did so with the hope that you would welcome him with open arms and give yourself to him willingly. Countless nights he waited in his own room for you to show up to keep him warm and love him throughout the night. But it never happened and a part of him couldn't blame you either.

However, he was already tired of it. He wanted to make it clear to you that he not only wanted to give, but also receive. But forcing you to do anything would ruin everything; you had to want it.

“Have I said something that offended you, prince?”

“I just thought you would say you were going to miss me”

A laugh echoed in your throat at those words and for a second Aegon felt hurt, like you were mocking you. He was going to let go of your hand and walk away, insulted, but you squeezed his hand harder as a sign that you didn't want him to do that.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at you. I just didn't think that if I harbored feelings of that kind they would be of interest to your majesty."

“Do you miss me when you don't see me?” he asked now, allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of you “Or are you glad to have me away?”

You didn't know what those direct questions were about, because you didn't expect that a man like him would be plagued by uncertainty about knowing the answers.

“Not at all. I will always be willing to be with you whenever you want.”

“And you want to be with me?” he insisted.

“I think that what I want is not important”

“But I'm trying to make it so. I thought I was making it clear enough,”

He was angry, but not for the reasons you might think. It frustrated him that he was trying hard to improve and that your eyes continued to see him like that first time. Too many people were already observing him like that and he thought that, perhaps, since you were the most recent to do it, you could also be the first in whom he could manage to modify it.

You, however, were still too confused by his signs. Sometimes his attitude didn’t coincide with the intentions he had, since antipathy was often the only emotion with which he allowed himself to express and feel, accustomed to what he received during all his years of life.

All those months of effort were a direct product of the talk you had had with him, of that moment of weakness in which, instead of ignoring him like everyone else did, you had stayed with him. Aegon was aware that the treatment towards you was sometimes inhumane and he couldn’t explain how despite this you had wiped away his tears with such care, expressing nothing more than an act of integrity. Sometimes he even just imposed things on you to see if he could push you to the limit and he was surprised to see that you endured everything with honor and decency. You were good, something he could never be.

He didn't want to hear anything more and then let go of your hand, feeling rejected again.

"Majesty…"

"It's getting late. I have to go feed Sunfyre so he can endure the trip.”

“Will you travel by dragon?”

“How else would a Targaryen do it?” expressed obviously.

You were silent for a moment and then he stood up, ready to fulfill his obligations. In the afternoon he had already left, without emotional goodbyes or anything like that.

You had those weeks alone to reflect on everything that had been happening. You firmly believed that a cruel and evil person would always be that way, even if they hid it, because humans can’t change from one day to the next. Still, you had to allow Aegon the courtesy of admitting that he wasn't being a complete jerk lately.

You tried to think of any unpleasant moments with him during that week and although you found a couple, you realized that they had all been because of minor arguments or simply that one of the two of you had woken up in a bad mood. The hatred for the boy had been so ingrained in you that now it was difficult to decipher how much of it was due to things that were really happening and how much of it was a resentment carried from the past, at the beginning of that harmful relationship that existed between you.

He was no longer a mean man to you, he just sometimes had those logical slips for anyone who has never been taught to love. He didn't know how to care for you, how to talk to you, or even how to touch you properly. He had always existed alone and could still be seen reflected in his incessant desire for you to be the one to look for him, in his longing to know that you would miss him during his absence and in wanting you to look forward to his return. He wanted you to pay attention to him. He needed it.

One fine afternoon the vision of Sunfyre finally appeared in the bright blue of the sky, with you watching from the huge window of your room. He looked majestic, flying deftly and confidently with the rider above him grinning from ear to ear. Aegon had once confessed to you that he loved to fly on his dragon and he spoke about it with a devotion that completely touched you.

You thought about going to look for him, grateful that he had returned, but you were afraid that your presence would bother him or, in that case, that there would be murmurs about you. You didn't want to seem like a desperate wife so you thought it would be best to look for him at dinner time and in case he wanted to see you before, you stayed in your room all afternoon.

Once night fell, you put on one of your prettiest dresses and went to the royal dining room hoping to find him there, but it was in vain. Luckily one of the cooks had seen him and he told you that he was in his room, since he had ordered that something to eat and drink be brought there.

Determined, you made your way there and took a moment before entering. You hoped that the time away from King's landing had not hardened your lover's character, because it would be a shame to waste what you had built for some time and have to start over, or not do it at all, which would be even worse. Since there were no guards at the door, you were able to push the wood without any hindrance and then you saw it.

Aegon was sitting near the fireplace, his back to the entrance and leaning against a table that had a jug that you assumed was full (or not so full anymore) of wine. When he heard your footsteps he turned slightly and when he saw you, he kept a serene expression on his face.

“Hey,” he exclaimed quietly.

“The maids informed me that you were here” you explained and he nodded.

You noticed that he no longer wore his black doublet with the Targaryen emblem, he only kept the breeches of the same color and a mint-colored linen shirt that left part of his chest exposed. His white hair had some natural curls that fell delicately over her shoulders.

“Yeah. I don't feel like seeing my parents.”

“I understand” you assumed that if he hadn't wanted to see you he wouldn't have hesitated to tell you, so you approached him. Undecided whether you should greet him with a kiss or just stay to the side, you placed your hands on his shoulders and leaned a little to look at him “How was the trip?”

“It was good,” he responded with reluctance. “But my body feels completely crushed”

“Hm. It shows” you whispered, amused. The tension in his body was palpable and that's why you began to massage him, pressing hard just where he needed it. Aegon, feeling your skilled hands doing this, let out a satisfied grunt and leaned his head back with his eyes closed.

Doing that wasn’t something you had planned when you went there, it had only happened out of the heat of the moment and the reality that your husband's body was taking its toll on him for the hours he had spent riding his dragon.

With each passing second Aegon's burden felt lighter and lighter, wondering where you had learned those movements and how your hands were strong enough to exert the right pressure.

"Feel better?" you asked kindly and he nodded immediately, eyes still closed.

Suddenly one of your hands slid lower, towards his chest, to caress him. This time your fingers were light as feathers, sending an electrical current up and down the man's spine under your touch. No whore had ever touched him like that, with that force and at the same time so delicately.

But it was clear that you were not a whore. You were his wife.

“Come here,” he said firmly, reaching out to wrap his hand around your wrist and pulling you directly into his lap.

It was extremely painful to admit that he had missed you. He was physically frustrated because he hadn't dared to take any other woman in your absence. It had been a long time since he had frequented pleasure houses, since his appetite was awakened only by being with you.

What the hell had you done to him?

“The cook told me that you ordered some food, but I only see wine around here. Have you already eaten anything?”

“Mhmm,” he said absently. Your legs dangled to the side and one of his hands came up to your face, brushing your loose hair away from it. The other one surrounded you until it planted itself firmly on your belly. “Still no signs of anything?”

“Honestly, I don't know. The maesters can’t say with certainty… I am sorry”

“What if you are sterile?” the mere possibility of it made you nervous and you wondered what your fate would be if that was the case. Aegon didn't look so worried “What a disappointment for Alicent.”

You didn't know how to take that, because on the one hand it could be that your husband was amused by the irony of the matter and on the other hand it was that he would never have wanted to have children with you. For a moment you thought that the tranquility of the environment had been fragmented by this, but it turned out that the man couldn't care less. He was completely focused on your lips, almost as if hypnotized.

“I trust that is not the case, your grace. Just… it was a streak of bad luck.”

“I guess so,” he murmured nonchalantly. He was still watching your mouth when you spoke “But now I don’t care much about that.”

He carefully grabbed you by the back of your neck and brought you closer to shorten the distance, giving you an eager kiss that took your breath away. The hand that was on your waist pulled you closer to his body, leaving practically no separation between you and him. You could feel the desperation on his lips and in his touch, like he was eager to make you his. And at the same time, he was kissing you like he had never done before: it was sweet, yearning, passionate. You felt like he really wanted you.

He separated from you so you could breathe and, as best he could, he maneuvered to lift your body until he placed you on the table, where it was easier for him to place himself in the space between your legs. You instinctively placed your hands around his neck and wrapped one of your legs around his body.

“I longed for you. These weeks” you finally confessed. You heard him, and felt him, breathe more erratically at this because your words had fallen on him with the force of an axe.

From there, Aegon acted solely driven by the feeling of knowing that you had wanted to see him as much as he had wanted to see you.

His entire body leaned over you to kiss you, with the same urgency as at the beginning. While he did that he grabbed you by the lower back, pulling you until your body collided with his crotch which, if it wasn't already hard, wouldn't take long.

His kisses were clumsy due to urgency and after a while he moved away from your mouth to descend to your neck. Sometimes he left a kiss or two, at most, but this time he seemed to want to take his time. His tongue ran all over your skin, freshly washed, and he spread caresses without restraint. Every place the dragon's lips touched lit up with fire and his hips grinding against you weren't doing much for the blush on your cheeks. Inevitably you began to sigh from so many stimuli, right at the level of his ear, which only motivated him to continue.

As best he could he pulled the laces on the back of your dress and it didn't take long to get rid of the restraints. He slid one of your sleeves over your shoulder to begin kissing that section, the same way he had done with your neck. An indiscreet moan escaped you as your husband bit into your soft flesh and you could feel him smile against your skin.

“You're mine, right?” he sighed brokenly. You had tilted your head back to give him more space and he took the opportunity to lower the entire torso of your dress. “Only mine…”

With the same devotion he took care of your breasts and you couldn't do anything but continue alternating between sighs and some muffled moans. You could feel how he longed for you, eager to be able to kiss every inch of your skin even if it took him the entire night. Suddenly your body had become a temple, an object worthy of worship. The prince continued to distribute kisses that each time descended towards your belly, until with one hand he violently threw everything that was on the table and you ended up lying completely on it. Then he walked away.

You were about to ask what had happened when he took care of taking off your ballerina flats and throwing them somewhere far away in the room, only to stretch your leg up to the height of his torso to start kissing it. No one, not even him, had ever done that to you, so it was natural for you to be dismayed. His kisses moved quickly up your thigh and once he did that, he dropped to his knees in front of you. The skirt of your dress blocked your view and when you tried to get up something made you scream. Aegon had bitten into the tender flesh of your thighs, quite close to your crotch and with more force than he had hit your shoulder. You could only imagine his face when he carefully licked the mark he had surely left on you, once again making your chest exhale a moan.

What he did next and the sensation it caused, you could never have even imagined. That mouth, which most of the time was used for ironic puns and sloppy kisses, was now taking expert care of all of your pussy. Aegon was devouring you completely, touching just where it was necessary to make you squirm on the table. He wasn't careful at all; it was a touch hungry and extremely dirty.

You wanted to hold on as much as you could to keep yourself attached to reality, but it was difficult with your husband eating you like that. One of his arms wrapped around your leg and placed it over his shoulder, probably to give him better access. You had never moaned like that in his presence and it only made him harder and harder beneath the tight fabric of his breeches.

The pleasure was barely getting to your head when he stopped and a dissatisfied grunt escaped you shamelessly. Aegon laughed unabashedly at this, pleased at the control he had gained over you, and then went up again to kiss you hungrily. You couldn't do anything but welcome his salty lips and you moaned against him as he leaned against your body and you could feel his crotch, not knowing if it was your own wetness or his that was present.

He held you from behind and, without stopping kissing you, carried you until he placed you on the bed. You considered it somewhat unfair that your husband already had you trembling beneath him and still hadn't taken off a single piece of clothing, but your complaints were silenced when he hurriedly pulled his shirt over his head and took off his breeches in record time. In the same way, he pulled your dress towards your legs so that a second later it ended up on the floor, along with everything else.

He knelt down on the mattress and spread your legs roughly, lining himself up with your entrance. He began to rub the tip of his member up and down your already wet center and that did nothing but drive you crazy again.

When a delicate, pleading, «please» escaped your swollen lips, Aegon knew it was more stimulating to have you begging for him than to worry about only satisfying himself.

He played with you for a while longer, smiling from ear to ear at the sight of his delicate, pretty wife vibrating from having him close, until he finally plunged into you. For the first time there was enough wetness in you that the stroke felt satisfying rather than painful and both of you let out a delicious moan.

He set the pace, slow at first, but after a while his movements became more desperate. He wanted to get to the core of you, he wanted to fill you completely so you knew that only he could make you feel that way. When his body began to ache he leaned towards you, resting each of his arms on the side of your head and looking directly at you. You had stopped looking away from him, now you were looking at him with your mouth open with pleasure, your eyes watery and your pupils dilated on your completely flushed cheeks.

“Aegon,” you sobbed pathetically, clouded by everything you were experiencing and proving that it wasn't long before you reached your orgasm.

You had never called him by his name. You always referred to him as «your grace», «prince» or «husband», at best. So hearing his name come out of your lips like that, under those circumstances, was too much for him to bear.

Knowing that he couldn't last much longer, one of his hands moved down to rest his thumb on your clit and once there he began to make erratic circles. You closed your eyes, completely seized by pleasure and a couple more thrusts were enough to make you lose the battle. Hearing your whimpers, combined with the way your walls squeezed him, was enough to make him cum too. With trembling legs you felt the warm liquid filling you and, for the first time, it was comforting.

When Aegon plopped down next to you, you immediately missed his body warmth. Both of you were breathing heavily, trying to catch the breath that the orgasm had taken from you. You could clearly feel your heartbeat bouncing off your bare chest and the stinging sensation coming from your crotch and running through your entire body was something you could get used to. Your hair had stuck to your face from the sweat and not to mention your lips, which you felt were burning from your husband's attention.

Aegon had already had many orgasms in his life so this time he decided to turn his gaze a little to see you enjoying yours. The mere idea that he was responsible for your condition made him completely shake.

“You look beautiful,” he blurted out suddenly. You thought he had heard wrong because of the rush, but from the way he was smiling at you, you highly doubted it. “Just like that”

“Like what?”

“Freshly fucked. Well fucked” he corrected himself.

A laugh bubbled up from within you and you blushed even more, if that was possible, perhaps from the nerves and elation of what had just happened. The man stood up a little from his seat and leaned down to kiss you, although this time he did it with a calm and affection that you never thought you would see in him. It was just that he couldn't deny it anymore; from that moment on he would become an open book for you, where you could see all his feelings, desires and fears.

“I don't know why you're doing this,” you suddenly murmured and Aegon pulled away enough to look at you “And I don't know why you've been acting like this these past few months. But I like it. I think it's a good time for you to know."

“You said I could choose who I am,” he said meekly. One of his hands grabbed your chin and stole another fleeting kiss from you. “I haven't forgotten, every word is present in my head. It's just... sometimes it's hard. And I thought I would have a better chance with you, even with the things I did to you when we got married”

You smiled at him and were happy to know that the change in his behavior was because of the talk you once had with him. If he continued like this, ignoring the demons inside him and trying to be better, then your marriage had a chance to become more than just a condemnation.

Driven by the pleasant feeling growing in your chest you reached out towards him to reward him with a kiss. The man's breath hitched when you pushed him to the side and reversed roles, now you being the one pampering him while he was lying down. There was a playful glint in your husband's eyes as you looked at him.

“Do you know this is the first time you kissed me?” he exhaled softly.

You couldn't believe that was possible and for a few seconds you tried to remember so you could contradict him. But every time you remembered you realized that it was always him who initiated the contact to which you only responded, so, effectively, it was the first kiss you gave him out of conviction.

Maybe it was an omen that something good was coming.

Still happy with how everything had turned out, you snuggled into his side, your head resting on his chest while he hugged you and threw a sheet over your bodies. You planted a hand on his bare skin and began drumming your fingers, alternating with small circles made with the greatest delicacy.

You were silent for a long time, you even thought that your husband had fallen asleep until you heard him speak again:

“It's also the first time I'm doing this.”

“Are you talking about sex, your grace?”

“No, I'm talking about cuddling,” he confessed softly, his hand caressing your back the same way you did with him, “And don't call me your majesty anymore. I am Aegon. Or my prince, at any rate. But my is important”

With the affection worthy of a wife, you raised your head to place a kiss on his cheek and assured him that from now on you would call him that in the privacy of your chambers.

Suddenly, after another moment of silence, Aegon pulled you close to him as if afraid you were going to suddenly evaporate. Intending to calm his fears, you climbed until you were on top of his body, hiding your head in his neck so that the distance became minimal.

There was silence for another couple of minutes.

“Do you think I can ever be forgiven?”

Apparently the atmosphere of the moment had managed to soften the boy's heart.

“We can all be absolved, Aegon.”

"And you?"

"Me what?"

“Do you think you can ever love me?” you were quiet for a second, thinking about your response. Then, he added “Or could you at least try? It would be a nice detail for me. No one has ever done it before.”

Not wanting to ruin the mood with a false word you decided to kiss his neck gently and that was enough of an answer for him. He would have to trust in your goodwill and that he could continue to restrain his impulses to keep this newly discovered gem that was his wife. With some luck you could even be that person he prayed for so much all his life, one with whom he could feel safe.

The slowing of the man's breathing revealed to you that he had already fallen asleep and you discovered that it seemed not so bad to find yourself in that position, sheltered by your lover's arms.

Under that scenario, the idea of eventually loving Prince Aegon Targaryen no longer sounded so far-fetched.

[abbyfmc]

Yandere Yandere (Fatherly) Emperor and Empress (Maternal) x Daughter! Reader:

Think about it.

I imagine that after a long line of princes, the yandere empress finally has a princess, and both parents are delighted with her, since she was the first daughter after many years of trying. Your father, the emperor, agrees that you be raised under the care of the empress (your mother).

From the moment you were born, you were never left alone for a single minute. When the Empress wasn't with you, the Emperor himself was. Your mother always made you follow her everywhere she went, as well as sharing her tastes and hobbies, since having only had princes prevented her from doing that. You had a close mother-daughter relationship, and with your father it was something more or less similar.

As you grow up, your parents become more overprotective of you, so much so that they even limit your contact with your older brothers, the princes. Not only would they give you nice gifts, but the best teachers, doctors and servants would be at your disposal (even better than those of your older brothers), although your brothers would probably be jealous of you.

They wouldn't let you walk alone for even a second.

If your father has a harem of consorts and concubines (like other emperors), then the empress will be more paranoid about you, since even though princesses do not inherit the throne, she knows that her enemies can harm you.

Once, when you were five years old, a maid broke a porcelain doll that your father had given you after returning from one of his trips. Unfortunately for that maid, the emperor was returning with you just when the doll broke, so he saw it and got SO angry that he asked his butler to take you out to the garden for a walk, so that you wouldn't see your father the emperor whip the poor maid to death. All this because he considered that maid to be reckless in daring to do that to your things, even if it had been an accident.

Even if more princesses were born, you were the object of your parents' overprotection and adoration.

Even your older brothers didn't dare to do anything bad to you. Once a new maid spoke ill of you (even though you hadn't done anything), and the empress herself slapped her in the face.

They hired servants who document your EVERY move.

The Emperor adores you so much that he will delay any kind of engagement or marriage alliance. He will reject any proposal, and silence anyone who mentions the subject. He does not want you away from him.

If it were up to them, you would stay locked in your room all the time so that nothing would hurt you, and they would tell you that they do everything for your own good.

You were punished by being locked up for an indefinite period of time, followed by the classic punishment of writing the same sentence repeatedly for a long time.

No trying to escape from the palace. The emperor would have experienced guards and servants around you to prevent that.

And if you do get married, then your parents will make sure that you have no choice but to live near the palace, no matter what.

They would be capable of killing if something happens to you.

If you fall ill, they will make sure you rest and eat well, even if it is against your will. If you were to die, they would both go mad with grief, especially the empress.

If you were to die, they would use your chambers as a sanctuary to you, where they would go to pray for you, and in the process force EVERYONE to mourn you.

Your emperor father would not let you have any contact with his family, as there is a power struggle going on where even his own brothers, cousins ​​and uncles could be his enemies and would do ANYTHING to get the throne; even if that includes kidnapping or killing you just because you are the emperor's daughter. Your mother would know this, and every time her brothers-in-law come, she will make you stay with her in the central palace.

With the Empress's family it's a different story, since there are no problems of inheritance of the throne, things are easier unless there is someone who tries to hurt you or pressure you like they do with your mother.

-The End.

What do you think?

[the20thangel]

The Vow

Summary: Request: I was wondering if you could write something with Benji and Targaryen reader. She's like the apple of her parent's eye and nervous about marrying Benji and if he would be good to her. And loyal, like she's very scared that he would go and have bastards or mistress. She doesn't want an unhappy marriage. She's very insecure, and Benji reassures her that he will worship the ground she walks on and she will be the only one he ever beds.

word count: 1.9K

Masterlist

As you stood before the mirror, your fingers fidgeted with the rings, a nervous habit inherited from your mother. You gazed at your reflection, a vision of beauty. Your luscious white hair was elegantly pulled into a loose bun, with a few strands delicately framing your round face. Your eyes, a mesmerizing shade of lilac, were accentuated with light makeup that made them stand out. You were adorned in a stunning, vibrant red gown with golden accents. Despite the maids' admiring sighs, you couldn't muster any excitement. 

 On the day of your wedding, your nerves were in a frenzy. Despite your parents' attempts to reassure you, you couldn’t shake off the worry. You knew little about the man you were about to marry. Lord Benjicot Blackwood, the young lord who fought bravely alongside his aunt Black Aly and Lord Cregan Stark during the war. You knew your mother owed her throne to them, and in gratitude, she had betrothed you to him. But all you heard were stories of Bloody Ben, a monster on the battlefield, and armies trembling at the lad's name. The weight of this uncertainty was a heavy burden on your heart. 

You were shocked when you heard the stories and the news of your betrothal. You couldn’t understand how your parents could ever give your hand to someone described like that. Then your father, King-Consort Daemon, explained to everyone in the public how he was known as the Rouge Prince, but they didn’t know his true self. He asked you if you believed in all the stories spread about him, which you vehemently denied. Your father was brash and rude when he talked to his enemies, but he was a protective dragon to his family, making sure his family was happy and safe. Your father smiled and said, then do not believe everything about Benjioct. Speaking in favor of the raven lord. You nodded, saying how you would try. 

Now, you weren’t worried about him being cruel. No, you were worried about him being unfaithful. Dragons, like your family, don’t do well when people try to steal things belonging to them. You were the same, and you worried that Benjicot would only see your marriage as a duty. Finding happiness, pleasure, and companionship in the arms of another. This fear of an unhappy marriage, of not being able to handle such a betrayal, was something that kept you awake at night, a constant source of anxiety. 

As your maids and handmaidens finished, your mother, Queen Rhaenyra, walked in. Gracing you with her beautiful smile, she walked behind you, embracing you as she kissed your cheek chastly. Holding you close to her made you smile and close your eyes in contentment. Your bond with your mother was stronger than any of your siblings. She could know your millions of thoughts from one glance at your face, so she held you tight to her, giving you the comfort you desperately wanted. 

“He’s a good lad, my sweet girl. Honorable, fierce, and just. He would rather feed himself to your dragon than betray you.” she whispered, trying to erase your fears. 

As you nodded, you didn’t know if you were a way to assure her or yourself into believing the statement. You wanted to believe in your parents' statements, but you were still worried. You hardly knew this man, and in a few minutes, you would be his wife. You would not only be a Princess but the new lady of House Blackwood. The pressure was building inside of you. As you finished readying yourself, a servant came in, letting the Queen and Princess know that the wolf's hour had arrived and it was time to start the wedding. 

Taking a deep breath, you wrap your arm around your mother’s arms as the two walk into Godswood, where the ceremony will be taking place. Today was a more intimate ceremony, since House Blackwood followed the ways of the First Men and Old gods. Your family decided to honor the Blackwoods by having a ceremony in the old ways, marrying infront of a hearttree. 

As you walked down the corridors to reach Godswood, your family slowly started coming together, each holding a torch to light the way. Once entering Godswood stood your future husband, bringing you a first surprise. Instead of wearing red and black, his house colors. Benjicot Blackwood stood infront of the hearttree wearing pure black with gold accents, completing your dress beautifully. As the Blackwood members turned to the Targaryen family, they couldn’t help but gasp at the sight, power, and beauty of the Valryians. 

Your family took the other side of the aisle while you and your father, Daemon, waited for the signal from Cregan Stark, who would officiate the ceremony. Once you saw the slight nod from the wolf lord, your father took your arm, giving your hand a light squeeze as you both began your trek down the aisle, meeting your betrothed in the middle. 

“ Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” 

Daemon straightened himself, presenting the daunting regal Targaryen he is; Princess (Name) of the House Targaryen comes here to be wed. A woman grown trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods.” 

Cregan nodded as he turned to Benjicot, who grinned at his beautiful bride. “ Who comes to claim her?” 

Benjicot inhaled as he stared at his future wife and good father, “Benjicot Blackwood, of House Blackwood, lord to Raventree Hall. 

“Who gives her?” asked Cregan, looking at both a Daemon and Rhaenyra. 

“Daemon Targaryen, Her father and King- Consort of the seven kingdoms of House Targaryen of Old Valyria, ” proudly stated Daemon. 

You smiled slightly, turning to look at your future husband. He was quite handsome and lean, but you can see the outline of muscles around his body. Benjicot noticed your staring and gave you a smirking grin, causing your face to heat up. 

Your staring is broken by Cregan asking you, “Name, do you take this man?” 

You gulped, feeling the nerves coming back. Glancing behind him, you saw how intently House Blackwood stared at you, causing the nerves to worsen. Benjicot, noticing this, frowned slightly. He knew his family could be intense and wished that he could glare to ease them back. You took a shaky breath, smiling wryly at Cregan first before turning to Benjioct, reaching out with your hand as you stated. 

 “I take this man.” 

Benjicot reached to take your hand, giving it a slight kiss, gracing you with a warm smile as Cregan asked the the Targaryen princess and Raven lord to kneel. Then asking for the group to stay silent for a few minutes for prayer.  As you and Benjicot kneeled in front of the hearttree, you stared at the crying face, asking the Old gods to please bless her marriage, that Benjicot remained loyal to her and her only. After a few minutes, the couple stood as Aly Blackwood stepped forward, providing the marriage cloak. Benjicot removed your maiden cloak passing it off, before he took the marriage cloak, cloaking you with the proud Blackwood sigil of the weirwood tree and ravens. As Benjicot stood infront of his beautiful wife, he took your face into his hands, caressing your reach as he leaned in. Kissing you with sweetness and softly sealing their union in the eyes of the Old gods. 

As the rest of both Blackwood and Targaryen families went back inside, Benjicot held your hand firm, singling you to stay. Tensing, you turned to your husband, trying your best to give him your best smile. 

Benjicot smiled, kissing your cheek, trying to ease your tension, “I was hoping that we could speak before heading inside, my princess.” 

You nodded, biting your bottom lip, wondering what he might want to speak about. 

Benjicot stared at you, trying to memorize your beauty under the moon light, his breath being constantly taken away. 

“I know our wedding came as a surprise to you and so quickly…we might not know each other, but I’m hoping this coming moon, we take the time to understand each other and what we expect from this marriage.” 

You froze, was this it? Was he going to tell you now that he was going to have a mistress in the marriage?

Benjicot seeing your demeanor, quickly comforted you. 

“No, sweet girl, I meant that I want this marriage to bring you happiness just like I feel.” 

These words confused you; tilting your head, you asked, “What do you mean, my lord?” 

Grinning, he brought a hand to your cheek, “Ever since I saw you during the war, I have been taken by you. You are beautiful and cunning. Your sharp wit and fearless dragon-riding skills made me admire you from afar. When your mother made the betrothal between us, I felt immense joy at the chance you be married to you. Alas, though, seeing your tension and nervousness around these past few days, I fear the rumors about me have made you weary of me.”  

You quickly shook your head. Taking his other hand and holding it close to your chest, you defended yourself. 

“No, my lord, I- the rumors are just that, rumors; my mother and father assured me that you are an honorable, dutiful, wonderful young man. I believe my parents would never agree to our marriage if you were not kind and respectful. I…” 

You paused, unsure how to go on the way to ask..command..plead for him to always stay loyal in your marriage, no bastards, no mistresses. Benjicot, seeing you hesitate again, placed his forehead on yours and took you into his arms. This caused you to gasp, having such an intimate gesture.

“Go ahead and ask my princess; I shall not get offended,” Ben requested, staring at your beautiful eyes. 

As you, too, stared at his stormy eyes, you saw the softness in them, “I- I only have one request, my lord, which I feel will make this marriage a truly happy one. I ask that you always stay loyal to me and our marriage. That you forsake the thought of mistresses.” 

Ben smiled at you, leaning down to place a kiss quickly before whispering for your ears only. 

“That is an easy promise. No other woman can ever compare to you, my beautiful dragon-riding wife. I would rather feed myself to all of your family’s dragons than ever think of betraying you. I will stay with you entirely until my last days, living with you, respecting you, comforting you, and fighting for you. I swear this on the old gods and new and the fourteen flames…So much I promise this, it was meant as a surprise but I want you to believe in my vow fully. I ask your parents that tomorrow we have a Valyrian ceremony, blood-bonding us together. Like your dragons usually bond one rider at a time and mate with one mate forever, I want to bind myself to you. That I may become yours forever.” 

As he finished his vows, he studied your shocked face. Hearing his vow to you made your heart beat faster, and you finally allowed happiness to bloom in your chest. Giggling, you leaned up to kiss him, wrapping your arms around your husband. Benjicot smiled into your kiss, continuing to kiss you a few minutes more before you stepped back a bit, staring at his eyes as you reached to trace the scar on his lip. You made your vow to him.

“I vow to love you and only you, Benjicot Blackwood, until the end of my days. I want to be blood-bonded with you.”

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

You know, it would be interesting for me to read the gloomy Disney characters. By the type that the Reader accidentally enters the Disney world. Or is already in this world. For example, a man! The Evil Queen× reader. Just imagine that the mirror says that the most beautiful is the reader and the man!The evil Queen was interested.. Well, or dark! A man!A Disney princess who believes in love and believes that the reader is his true love and that the reader should belong only to him.

Sorry for the bad English

Don't apologize

You're perf, babes

Yandere!Genderbent!Evil King x GN!Reader x Yandere!Genderbent!Snow White

CW: Death, obsessive behavior

"Magic mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" The vain king asked his enchanted mirror as he often did whenever his pride was wounded. King Hadewig was the envy of men and women. Cold and beautiful, his features were cut like an ethereal ice sculpture. Intelligent, talented, and ruthless, most everyone either wanted to bed him or be him. However, his power was not guaranteed for long.

Hadewig was King only by responsibility, and not by actual title. His title was, legally, Prince Consort. He married his, now deceased, wife when he was a young bachelor, and she was the only eligible bachelorette of suitable status as a widow. Being so much older than him, it was an "unfortunate", but not "unsurprising" passing of the crown when the Queen died and left her son in Hadewig's care.

The only reason the child wasn't immediately crowned king was because of Hadewig's charm and influence, convincing the court that the young Prince Snow was too irresponsible to rule the country. But it was difficult to continue that lie going, even with Hadewig purposely keeping Snow ignorant of his future kingly duties by treating him as a servant, for now the boy was twenty years of age, and truly should have not only been coronated years ago, but also wed off to the available princess of the neighboring kingdom, a woman as old as Hadewig.

But his potential loss of power wasn't the reason for his low self esteem that day.

"You are, my king. There is one who approaches, but does not yet share with you what makes you fair."

The king slumped in his seat in an uncouth like manner. "Then why does my hunter not look at me like a man?"

King Hadewig's personal hunter, an immensely talented killer that didn't just slaughter animals for the king. And the only person who simply looked at the king. Nothing Hadewig did could change the professional look on (Reader's) face during their meetings. No matter how charismatic he was with his words, how stylish his clothing was, nor the love potions he attempted to spike (Reader's) drinks with, they were seemingly immune to every one of his attempts. In their most recent meeting, the one that left Hadewig depressed, he had offered his hunter a glass of wine, which they turned down, stating that the last drink they had received from the king did not agree with them.

"I can not tell you that, my lord. I only can report what I see, so unless your hunter speaks their secrets out loud while I spy, I am blind to their feelings for you."

Hadewig groaned, upset and broken hearted.

"Show me my hunter, again."

The face in the mirror melted, dissolving into an image of (Reader) leaving the castle. Their strong frame sent shivers down the icy man's spine. His first and only marriage was one of political importance, with no love or warmth between the husband and wife. But in the presence of his Mx. Hunter, the king was set ablaze. The intense feeling of heat was dowsed when he witnessed the bastard he hated most in the world approach his hunter.

At the steps of the castle, Snow had been timidly watching the triumphant hunter from afar, gathering the courage to approach them. He had never known shame, never feeling any sort of embarrassment about the state of his dress, but in the presence of the person who always smelled faintly of iron, he was reduced to two inches tall.

Stepping lightly like a mouse, the short adult snuck up behind (Reader), still debating whether or not he was actually going to announce his presence.

His decision was made for him, however, being noticed by (Reader) almost immediately.

"Good afternoon, your highness." They said, turning sharply on their heel to face him.

The hunter was the only person to address the prince by his royal status.

"Ah- how did you know it was me?" He asked incredulously. A pink blush warmed his entire head, wrapping around the back of his neck and up to the tips of his ears.

"Because I could hear you." (Reader) offered a kind smile to the shy, younger man. They felt sympathy towards him, with the way his cold step father treated him. With what they had done to him.

Snow was impressed by how cool (Reader) was. And a small part of him wished to impress them as well. He tried to straighten out his worn out rags. "What brings you to the castle today?"

"To gift the king a wolf pelt. And also," (Reader) reached into their pouch, pulling out a pressed flower, "to gift you this."

The prince sucked in his gasp, wide eyed and lips pressed tight.

"I apologize for not finding something better for your highness."

"No!" He panicked, grabbing the flower with both hands. "It's beautiful!"

He hadn't received a gift since the passing of his mother.

"Happy Birthday, your highness." (Reader) bowed, then turned swiftly, leaving the young man hyperventilating and sweating.

Only the king and his mirror heard Snow whisper long after (Reader) left: "I love you."

Three days later, and the king was losing his mind over the interaction. Snow was visibly taller, standing straighter as he worked, singing as he cleaned the castle grounds, and it was bothering him.

Hadewig kicked over his chair in frustration. "Magic mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?"

"The one you fear is getting stronger, the confidence has warmed his winter, and people shall notice his spring awakening. The prince now glows more brightly than you, whose anger has etched lines of hatred into his ice like face."

King Hadewig released a scream, losing his control before quickly sharpening back up, running his hands through his messed hair.

He left his study, storming over towards a frightened servant.

"Send for my hunter."

Before (Reader), the king was disheveled, worrying (Reader) something awful.

"I can not stand for this disrespect any longer." His gaze read cold and cruel as it pierced the hunter's. "You understand that you are mine, correct?"

(Reader) thought about the flower and felt a wave of anxiety. "Yes, your highness."

"You understand that you belong to me?"

"Yes, your highness."

He sighed ever so slightly, before retrieving a wooden box from his desk. "I have another assignment for you.

Kill my son."

Nausea threatened to erupt from the seasoned murderer. "My lord?"

"Take him deep into the woods, and bring me back his heart." He held out the box. It was a test, as though (Reader) hadn't proved their loyalty to the mad man enough.

The empty box was heavy in (Reader's) hands.

"As you wish, your highness."

Prince Snow spun in the field of flowers as he searched for the most beautiful flowers for the hunter. It was the best day of his life! His father had given him a colorful outfit that fit him and the hunter had asked him out on a date! Well, they didn't call it a date, but what else could it have been?

He wove a crown for (Reader) while imaging their wedding day, becoming King and Royal Consort and having a real crown placed on their head.

(Reader), however, was weighing their options, not truly paying attention to the prince, and trying to ignore his childlike excitement.

What would the king do, if he was made a fool?

"Oh, hunter!" Snow ran over, holding out the delicate crown. "I made this for you! May I?"

And that was all it took, for (Reader) to spare his life.

They bent down, feeling the weight of the crown on their scalp. It smelled nice. Before Snow could retreat, (Reader) wrapped their arms around his thin waist. They had killed so many people before, but this was only the second time they felt unbearable guilt.

The first was after they took the life of the Queen.

"(Reader)?" Snow stuttered out, feeling weak in their strong arms.

"You must run, your highness." (Reader) whispered into his ear.

"What?"

"The king has ordered me to kill you. So please, run. Far away, into the woods." They released the prince, and it was only then that he noticed the heavy bags under their tired eyes.

"Why? I don't understand-"

"Leave. It won't be long before that witch discovers my lie."

Snow fell to his knees, holding onto the edge of (Reader's) shirt for dear life, falling apart in front of them. "Please, no! Come with me! If he would kill me, what would he do to you for sparing me? Please, run away with me!"

(Reader) bent down to release his fingers from their hem, planting a kiss on his forehead as they did so. "I hope when I meet you again you will have found a name more worthy of such a warm and kind person. For as of this moment, Prince Snow is dead."

Excitement threatened to crack the King's cool demeanor as he observed the bloody heart in his hands. (Reader) was distant, but that didn't matter to Hadewig, for now there was no competition for his hunter's affection. They would soon be his, even if he had to use force to make it so.

"Excellent work, my faithful hunter." He offered a practiced smile, unnerving (Reader) who prayed that the pig heart made a convincing decoy. At least until they could escape and hide out in the mountains, far away from the King's eyes.

(Reader) gave a deep bow. Then they left, calmly getting on their horse, and leaving, not taking a single glance behind them as they sped off, emergency bag already packed on their steed.

Back in Hadewig's room, he caressed the box affectionately, thinking about his lovely hunter. The stress had certainly caused a frown line, just as the mirror said, but he was working at reversing the damage.

"Magic Mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" He dreamily asked, slightly nervous that the rage had permanently ruined his perfect face.

"Hiding deep within the woods, tending a wounded heart, the fairest in the land hides. Prince Snow still lives."

The king scoffed. "I have his heart right here, mirror."

"No, within that box lies the heart of a pig."

The box fell from Hadewig's hands. "A pig..?" His face scrunched up painfully. "(Reader) would never betray- they belong to me! ME! Guards! Where is my hunter?!"

"The hunter is flying towards the mountains, away from the woods they released the prince into."

Hadewig collapsed at his desk, screaming in agony while pawing at his chest. "No! It's all his fault! Find me that little bastard- I'll kill him myself!"

The seven dwarven women listened to the young man recall his tale of woe, his eyes full of tears but a smile still on his lips. "So, if you please, could I stay here? Just until my love returns for me."

Happy sighed dramatically, blushing and twirling her beard. "That (Reader) is so brave~"

Grumpy smacked the back of her head. "That double crosser may have saved the prince, but that doesn't mean they won't double double cross him!"

Bashful stomped a foot. "It's true love! They would never!"

"Well, they never confessed their feelings," Doc said while cleaning her glasses, "they could have saved Snow out of the goodness of their heart."

Snow smiled, trying to calm the fragments of his heart. "I have to believe, to hope, that (Reader) loves me as I love them. To risk death for me.. but, they said we would meet again. And I trust them."

It was painful, knowing that his father wanted him dead, but what was worse was hearing that (Reader) had put their life in danger for him. Despite all the pain and punishment Snow had endured, he never held it against his step father, but now..

A dark, bitter seed had been planted.

And throughout the night as the household slept, Prince Snow could feel it grow, threatening to burst forth from his chest. The dwarven women were so kind to him. So inviting, and trusting.

He wondered what else they would do for him.

The dark haired man knew that the apple was poison from the moment it was placed in his hands. What kind of elderly man would be this far out away from any sort of town, especially if they were traveling to sell produce? He didn't know who the old man was, but knew that he must have been in cahoots with the king.

"Oh, I don't have any money." Snow said quite sadly, placing his head in his hand.

"For such a lovely young man? Free of charge."

"Are you sure?"

The old man was certainly no real beggar. Nothing made sense. It was cruel, what Snow thought to do, especially if he was wrong, but in case he was right.. Snow whispered to a bird before smiling brightly at the stranger, taking the apple in both hands.

"Of course, please take it!"

Snow bit into the fruit, but did not swallow, hiding the chunk in his hand. After a few seconds of pretending to chew, he collapsed, holding his breath.

The king almost immediately dropped his disguise, snarling. His once similarly raven hair had a stripe of grey.

In a voice barely louder than a huff, he said "It serves you right, you filthy bastard. I would have let you live, if you had simply left my (Reader) alone."

He exhaled. There was no movement from the floor.

"Are you dead yet? Can you still hear me? I hope you can." The king smiled. "I hope you can hear me from beyond the grave as I finally get my happily ever after."

But as he celebrated the dwarves rushed home from work, and a small bird was rallying forces to find the hunter and lead them to Snow's body.

As he monologued to what Hadewig assumed was his son's corpse, the women returned from the mines, righteously horrified and armed with pickaxes.

Hadewig heard a woman shout "Grumpy, don't!" before a pick connected with his lower back, piercing his organs from behind.

The pain was excruciating, sending fire up his body as blood poured out of him. He imagined (Reader's) face, finally smiling for him as they cradled him in their arms, accepting his love. Hadewig wanted that to be the last thing he saw before he died.

Instead, he witnessed Snow, smiling up at him from the floor.

(Reader) arrived just a moment too late, having been closer than they had expected due to how deep into the woods Snow had traveled. They witnessed the sobbing dwarves sitting at the door, too upset to enter their own home where the young prince they tried to rescue lie dead.

The hunter pushed passed them, not wasting a second to grab the young man. He was still warm, but wasn't breathing.

Snow kept his eyes closed as he felt the worst pain he had ever known.

(Reader's) hands slammed into Prince Snow's chest. A rib cracked under their strength, but Snow refused to show it.

Then their lips pressed against his.

His nose was held shut as (Reader) forced air into his throat, trying to get him to wake up. They continued the repetitions a medicine man had taught them while blowing air into his lungs.

"God damnit, Snow, wake up!"

They leaned in, and felt him breath against their mouth. His large brown eyes fluttered open, and his face reddened.

His lips curled into a weak grin. "You came back for me.."

Guilt washed over (Reader), hugging him tightly to their chest. "I'm sorry I left, Prince Snow."

Warm hands ran through (Reader's) hair. "Please.. Call me Theros."

The regret and pain kept (Reader) still, allowing the recently "revived" prince to pull them in for a kiss.

After all that (Reader) put him through, a kiss was the least they could do.

But for the born again man, it was just the beginning.

[mononijikayu]

the dragon and the maiden fair — gojo satoru.

Kneeling before you, Satoru worshiped at the altar of your body with reverence, his mouth and tongue offering devotion. Your moans, sweet music to his ears, spurred him on. You gripped the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. The sensation, whether painful or not, thrilled him to the core. He liked the pleasure of pain. He liked it rough, as you well know.

Genre: Alternate Universe — ASOIAF

Warning/s: Alternate Universe, R-18, Smut, Explicit Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Romance, Servant!Reader, Targaryen Prince! Satoru, Pet Names, Fluff, Praise, Breeding, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Creampie Possessiveness, Mentions of Historical Notes, Mentions of Body Parts, Mention of Sexual Acts, Mention of Alcohol, Mention of Marriage;

Words: 5k words.

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 800;

note: im sorry i haven't posted this yet. it took a while because tumblr isn't working well. can anyone help me cause tumblr isn't letting me see images and gifs right now??? this is really a pain. but if you guys have tips, let me know! anyway, i love you all!!! <3

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SUCH A THING WAS UNEXPECTED TO PRINCE SATORU TARGARYEN. If one would have asked him what he wanted all these years ago — he would have said to do his duty to the realm. To ride his dragon off to battle, to enjoy the bounty of his position until he died. Yet, as he took in the moment between you and him, basking in the beam of moonlight — he found himself thinking that this was more than enough. Nothing else mattered in the world. Just the two of you making for a merry bunch, over spiced wine under the moonlight..

His bright blue gaze remarked each movement of your face as laughter echoed at each and every joke, every quip. There was true joy in the beams of your eyes. Satoru Targaryen must admit that he thinks no one has ever truly looked at him with such warmth. No one had ever been this joyful being by his side. No one but you. 

You were a common lady, one he shouldn’t even be associating with as a prince. But he found himself enthralled with you. It was as if the flame in him burns if you were there to cause the fury that keeps him alive. He thinks that he found it in the way your hands moved, rubbing itself together with each laughing fit. It was in the way a small bridge forming in your lips folding into a pout roused him with great joy. It was the way your tender hands held him as though he was the most fragile thing in the world. 

Every sight of you since he had met you was enough to rush his mood away from the bleak nature of his world spinning onto the void of oblivion. All had been forgotten. His pains of being the most powerful, lonely man in the world. His anger at his father’s debauchery. His grief at the curse of his power, of his position. Since then, in his world, there is only your warmth melting his cold heart little by little. 

Satoru was honest when he said that he had known many women and men. At times, he still meets them and knows he has the power to compel them to his bed. To warm his cold bed with the flames that equate his own. Yet none could match your vivacity, your grace or your intelligence. None of them were you. None of them were his maiden fair. None had pierced his heart deeper than the words you gave him each morrow, in his arms, with your warmest tone. 

Satoru thinks that you were made for him.

You were given shape to be the one for him.

To love him, to warm him, to bring him to life.

Nothing in the world can make him leave you.

Many had spoken of their concern to him, consorting with a common lady. It was unbecoming, unprecedented for a prince of Dragonstone to be so enthralled with a woman of unequal status. But Satoru thinks he dares not listen. What did these old men know about you? What did these fools know about love? What did they know about the truth of human life? None. No one did. Only he did. Because he had you. You were the truth of human life. You were his life. 

It was easy to feel alive when you were the most gentle of all the flowers in this garden. He remembers when he first met you. Eyes gleaming with morning dew, the way your fingers touched the small blossom of white roses springing across the most beautiful gardens. Your beauty was the wonder of humankind. He felt like he was struck by love at that moment. 

Your long glistening hair blossomed like a parting flower, beckoning a dance between the wind and your gentle touch. His eyes widened, lips flew apart. The heart thumped against his chest loudly, beat after beat, which made him latch onto his chest. It hurts to see you walk away. From that moment on, he was resolute to find you. He was resolute to have the woman he loved in his arms. 

Moon after moon was a disappointment, to be sure.  He had found himself unable to find you, even with his most trusted servants looking for you. And in that time, life of the royal court had become placid, cold with the loss of warmth, of reasons. Each day, the throne felt more like his prison than his birthright. He hated how it was. How lonely it was without you. 

When he had found you again, he was astounded. You were now working within the palace, as his sister’s maid. It was wonderful for him. Each day, he had invited his sister to join him to break their fast together. And each morning, he could not stop his eyes from wandering towards you. He was sure that all had noticed how enamored he was with you. And he was not shy to deny his fondness, his affections. 

You have been mortified that the prince of Dragonstone was willing to put himself in your way and bend to you — a common born lady, with nothing but the clothes on your back. You were a baseborn young maiden. You don't even know who your mother and father were. You felt unworthy of his affections. He was a prince. And you were nothing, you should be nothing. But that did not deter him.  And slowly but surely, his charm, his tenderness, his truthfulness, his love — it all won you over. 

“You have given me too much wine.” You say to him. 

He grins at you. “You are fond of it, are you not? To taste it from my mouth.”

“I am.” You say as your reddened cheeks grew redder yet. “It is late now, isn’t it, my prince?”

He nodded back to you, his thumb wiping the side of your cheek. There was a stain of the wine. “Yes, it is past midnight now.”

“Oh my!” You hiccuped in between. “I feel as though I am drunk now.”

“Yes, my maiden fair. You are drunk with a merry drink.” He cooes at you, bright cerulean eyes beaming at you. “You were so beautiful with each drink, my maiden fair.”

You laugh once more. “Well, I do not mind, my prince. It is merrier with you. Everything is.”

“I should say the same.” He smiles fondly, so warmly towards you.

Both had taken a step out of his chambers in days, enjoying each other’s company in the most intimate sensuality. His duties keep him away from you more often than he would have hoped. And with his taking of you under the nose of all these bothersome fools, he thought to keep you away from court and keep you in Dragonstone. At times, he knows you get lonely with him being summoned to do his duties at court. But he was thankful that you bear with him. You love him and it was enough. It was more than enough. 

His head rested upon your bare belly, as he watched his dragon fly among the smallest birds that fly within the keep most days. He ate at your womanhood like a starved man, over and over again. He enjoyed how you pulled at his silver hair over and over again, crying and weeping. When you were exhausted from pleasure, he would find himself cleaning you and caring for you. He asks the servants to send up some food for the two of you and he feeds you. He does not want you to move one single muscle, one single hand, or finger. He wanted to pamper you, pleasure you. Love you every single day.  

One of these days, he had heard that he had been once more summoned by his father at court. But he did not care.. Not when in his arms glowed a most beautiful marvel, laced in endless Tyroshi silk, your body as soft as a feather’s touch. He was happy to stay here in your arms. You did not mind if he worked on his scrolls in bed. He was enthralled watching you read missives for him too. It was too much work, to leave you again. That he was not much willing to do.

“I do not think the court likes me very much.” You whispered, resting your head against his warm body. “Nor your father the king.”

He laughs, his hands pushing away your long hair from your cheek. “My maiden fair, I do not care what anyone else thinks.”

“But it is a stain on your reputation, Satoru—”

“As if none of these bastards have mistresses of their own common lady as their second wives. Mayhaps even whores.” He scoffs, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Loyalty is not their strong suit, my love. But it is mine. I will not forsake you. You are and never will be my stain. You are my love. Only mine.”

You feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, a soothing balm against the doubts that cling to your heart. Satoru's touch is gentle, his fingers tracing patterns along your jawline, as if to erase the worries etched upon your face.

"I fear they will try to tear us apart, my prince." you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the court's judgment lingers in the air, a heavy presence that threatens to suffocate the fragile happiness you've found in his arms. 

Satoru's eyes meet yours, a fierce determination burning within their depths. "Let them try, my maiden fair." he replies, his voice a low rumble that resonates with unwavering confidence. "I have faced countless adversaries, and none have succeeded in separating me from what I hold dear. And you, you are the one I hold most dear.”

You marvel at his unwavering resolve, the strength that radiates from him like a beacon in the darkness. In his presence, the world feels a little less daunting, and your fears begin to dissipate, replaced by a flicker of hope. He was all you had, your beautiful, powerful prince. And he wanted you. For bitter or for worse, for good or for greater. He will want you, he will love you.

"Do you truly believe we can overcome this?" you ask, seeking reassurance in his steady gaze.

He cups your face in his hands, his touch tender yet firm. "I believe in us, my love." he declares, his words a promise woven into the fabric of your shared future. "No matter the trials we face, I will fight for you, for us. Together, we are unbreakable."

Your heart swells with a mixture of gratitude and love, a potent blend that binds you to him in ways words can scarcely capture. In this moment, beneath the weight of a disapproving court and a king who remains an enigma, you find solace in the unwavering devotion of the man who holds your heart.

“Will you fight for me too, hm?” His cerulean eyes search your own, expectantly. “Will you fight for your prince?”

"I will fight for you, my prince. My Satoru." you vow, your voice steady and resolute. "For us."

With a soft smile, Satoru leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that speaks of promises and dreams yet to be realized. All that was left was passion, bountiful love as you returned the kiss while shutting your eyes and letting yourself be completely removed from reality. 

They were turned over as he leaned over you without severing their kiss. His right hand was entangled in your fine long hair, while the other nuzzled your face as if he wanted to close his eyes and recall your beauty. Although he was certain that nothing about you would be easily forgotten.

You ended the kiss, taking in air.

His bright blue never leaves you.

He was hungry for more of you.

You breathed deeply and gazed at him with your wanton eyes. "I want you to take me. Make me your wife, even just tonight, my prince.”

You hitched a breath as he delicately caressed the firm line of your jaw with his thumb. You feel like you were on fire, whenever you were with him. "My maiden fair. I’ve wanted to make you my wife all this time. You do not need pretense.”

“I cannot—”

He moves forward, placing kisses on your neck. You moan. “I will not let you go because some fool says no. I am Satoru, prince of Dragonstone. The first of the name. The man who will be king. I have a dragon who’s seen many battles. Anyone who dares say no to me, say no to our marriage. They will face my love. Do not care for their worries. Love me instead. Make love to your husband, your prince. Your king.”

Your heart races at his words, a mix of desire and disbelief flooding your senses. Satoru’s confidence is intoxicating, a force that draws you closer to him, erasing the barriers that have kept you apart.

“Tonight, let there be no doubts, my maiden fair.” he murmurs against your skin, his lips tracing a path of fire down your neck. His hands cradle your face with a tenderness that contrasts the fervor of his words.

You close your eyes, surrendering to the sensation of his touch, the world around you fading into insignificance. In this moment, there is only Satoru, his presence enveloping you like a cloak of protection and love.

“But what of the court? The king?” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you cling to the last vestiges of reason.

Satoru pulls back slightly, his gaze capturing yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. “Let them watch and whisper,” he declares, his voice firm and unyielding. “I will not be swayed by their disapproval. My heart belongs to you, and nothing will change that.”

His words ignite a spark within you, a courage that had lain dormant now awakening with fervor. You reach up, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer as you press your lips to his, pouring all your love and longing into the kiss.

Satoru responds with equal fervor, his hands roaming your body, claiming you as his own. The world outside ceases to exist, and in this private sanctuary, you find solace in the certainty of his love.

“I love you,” you whisper between kisses, the words a sacred vow.

He smiles against your lips, a warmth radiating from him that banishes all doubts. “And I you. my maiden fair, my little wife.” he replies, his voice a soft caress. “Tonight and forevermore, you are mine.”

Satoru leaned forward with intent, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. His hands traced every contour of your body, moving with purpose until they reached your thighs. You responded eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck and threading your fingers through his silver hair, playing with the strands as he deepened the kiss. 

After a while, he shifted his attention, trailing kisses down your neck and leaving marks that drew soft moans from your lips. His focus moved lower, drawn to the beauty of your form even in the dim candlelight. Your full, enticing curves were a sight that made his heart race.

Taking his time, Satoru kissed his way down your thighs and legs, committing each inch to memory. He felt as if he had ascended to the heavens, feasting on the divine bounty laid before him. He takes and he takes — greedily as he can. Each sound from you egged him on. Faster and then harsher, then deeper.  

The reality of your shared intimacy was something he never dared to dream of, when he first met you. But now none will stop him.  Now he has had a taste of you, now that he has had plenty, he wants more of you. He wanted more and more. He was greedy when it came to you. His maiden fair.

He pulled back momentarily, observing your flushed face and the gentle pants escaping your lips. With renewed passion, he captured your mouth once more, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, eliciting a quiet whimper from you. As he broke the kiss, his gaze roamed your body, filled with longing and desire. He carefully lifted the hem of your nightgown, revealing the sacred beauty beneath. The beauty that can only truly belong to him.

Kneeling before you, Satoru worshiped at the altar of your body with reverence, his mouth and tongue offering devotion. Your moans, sweet music to his ears, spurred him on. You gripped the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. The sensation, whether painful or not, thrilled him to the core. He liked the pleasure of pain. He liked it rough, as you well know. 

Lost in the moment, you cried out in pleasure, surrendering to the wave of bliss that overtook you. Satoru reveled in your cries, cherishing every moment as he savored the gift of your shared passion, holding nothing back in this sacred exchange. If there was such a thing as the Maiden, then you were her best creature. You were her best daughter. The daughter he wants to claim, to breed, to make his own. 

Satoru's kisses were fervent, igniting a fire that spread through your veins. His calloused, warm hands roamed your body with a confidence born from knowing every sensitive spot, every curve that made you sigh and arch toward him. He let a small laugh release from his mouth. You were getting too eager for your own good.

As he worshiped your skin with his lips, you felt the heat of his breath against your thighs, a tantalizing promise of what was to come. Your lover was generous, he always was. He cared more for your pleasure than his own, that was truly certain to you. But he has too much energy. He was relentless in making you find your pleasure as much as he had time and energy to spend. You really don’t want to complain. Your prince was too much of a good lover, he loved you.

Your hands tugged at his silver hair, urging him closer, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he drew closer to your core. With a reverent touch, he parted your legs, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you, laid bare before him. His mouth descended, and you cried out, your back arching in response to the exquisite sensation of his tongue tracing intimate paths along your skin.

Your Satoru was relentless, his lips and tongue moving in a dance of worship that left you breathless, lost in a haze of pleasure. Every flick and caress was an echo of his devotion. Each layer broken, each layer conquered connected you deeper to him. He wanted more of you, wanted to discover depths of your cunt that he could make his.

Your small hands clutched at him desperately, nails grazing his scalp as he drove you closer to the edge. The room was filled with the symphony of your moans and gasps, eliciting that inflamed passion that burned between you. You could feel him laugh once more. He was pleased, you think. He discovered another depth of you. 

“Please, my love, my prince.” you murmured, a plea that was both a prayer and a command, and Satoru answered with renewed fervor, his touch becoming more insistent, more urgent. He wanted to claim you, to make you his in every sense of the word. “My Satoru!”

“Come, my maiden fair. Feel me whole, my wife. Feel my tongue in you, hm?”

With a final cry, you surrendered to the wave of ecstasy that swept over you, your body shuddering in release as Satoru held you close. His touch was both reassuring and possessive, his powerful presence enveloping you completely. As you reached the peak of pleasure, your body trembled uncontrollably, every nerve alight with the intensity of your climax.

Satoru’s lips were a gentle contrast to his earlier dominance, brushing against your skin as he whispered sweet promises in a voice that was both soothing and commanding. His words were a balm, a reminder of the connection that had brought you to this moment, and the promise of more to come.

His warm tongue traced along your skin, its path leaving a trail of sensation that enraptured you whole. The way he moved, the way his tongue explored every inch of you, was a testament to his unwavering attention and desire. It was as if he was savoring every moment, every taste, committing it to memory.

When he finally parted from you, his eyes met yours with a glint of satisfaction and pride. You could see the evidence of your shared pleasure, the way his chin was slick with your release, glistening in the dim light. The sight was both intimate and overwhelming, a reminder of the depth of your connection and the intensity of what you had just shared.

His expression was one of triumph, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he took in the sight of you, still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax. “Messy, aren’t we?” he teased, his voice a low, teasing drawl. “But oh, so satisfying, isn’t it?”

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your ecstasy, Satoru shifted slightly, his movements deliberate and assured. His bright cerulean eyes, still locked on yours, held a promise of more to come, a flicker of desire reigniting as he positioned himself above you once again.

He leaned down, capturing your lips once more, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue. The kiss was both possessive and tender, full of lust and desire for you. Only you. His hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve with a reverent touch, as if memorizing every inch of you all over again. 

With a teasing smirk, Satoru broke the kiss, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Ready for more, maiden fair?” His voice was a deep, velvety growl, filled with anticipation and longing.

Before you could respond, he positioned himself at your entrance, you could feel it. You could feel his thick member pressing against you with an insistent pressure. The sensation sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine, your body responding instinctively to the promise of what was to come.

Slowly, deliberately, your Satoru began to push inside you, his cock stretching you once more with an intoxicating mix of pleasure and fullness. The sensation was both familiar and overwhelming. You gasp aloud, as he stills. He was always too big. You feel that each time he claims you, it was a reminder of the power he held over you. A power you will always let him have.

He moved with a steady rhythm, his hips rolling with a controlled grace that left you breathless. Each thrust was a deliberate, measured stroke, filling you completely and driving you further into a haze of pleasure. The heat between you built once more, the friction of his movements reigniting the fire that had momentarily subsided. Your dragon burns you alive with his pleasure and you love it. You adore it.

Satoru’s gaze never left yours, his eyes dark and intense as he watched you with a mixture of pride and satisfaction. The way your body responded to him, the way you opened up to receive him. With every thrust, he drove you closer to the edge, your body arching and writhing beneath him in a dance of passion and surrender. The pleasure was all-consuming, each wave crashing over you with a force that left you gasping and yearning for more.

As your prince continued to move inside you, his pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with a renewed urgency. The room was filled with the sound of your burning passion, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. Over and over. You could feel his weight press even more against your body as he dived further inside your cunny.

You could feel yourself nearing the edge once more, the heat and pressure building to a crescendo that threatened to consume you completely. Satoru seemed to sense this, his thrusts becoming more urgent and more demanding as he drove you both toward the end. The rhythm of his movements was relentless, each stroke pushing you closer to that precipice of bliss.

Your fingers tightened around him instinctively, holding on as if he were the only anchor in a sea of overwhelming sensation. His name spilled from your lips in a breathless chant, a testament to the pleasure that coursed through you with every thrust. Satoru’s body was a solid, reassuring presence above you, his muscles flexing with each powerful movement.

The intensity of his speed left you gasping, the relentless pace driving you to the brink of ecstasy. Your body responded eagerly, hips rising to meet each of his forceful thrusts as you clung to him desperately. The room was filled with the sounds of your shared passion, a symphony of moans and gasps that underscored the intensity of the moment.

Satoru’s focus was absolute, his blue haze locked on yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. There was a determination in his eyes, a promise that he would take you both to the heights of pleasure and beyond. Each movement was precise and calculated, his control and power evident in every thrust.

As you approached the peak, the flames of pleasure became all-consuming, it burned you. It drowned you in its tidal wave of sensation that threatened to sweep you both away. The heat and pressure reached a fever pitch, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge, ready to fall into the abyss of ecstasy.

With a final, powerful thrust, Satoru drove you both over the edge, the release crashing over you like a wave. Your body shuddered in his arms, the sensation so intense that it left you breathless and trembling. His own climax followed swiftly, his body tense and shaking as he joined you in the blissful release.

In the aftermath, you lay entwined, the world around you fading into insignificance. The pleasure had left you both utterly satisfied, your bodies still humming with the remnants of ecstasy. As your breaths slowly returned to normal, you found comfort in the warmth of his embrace. Satoru’s fingers gently caressed your skin, his touch a soothing balm in the wake of the storm. His presence was a comforting weight, your everything.

When he was finally relieved, your Satoru rose to meet your gaze, his eyes filled with a tender intensity that left you breathless. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, and you tasted the echoes of your own pleasure on his lips. With every touch, every whispered word, he made it clear that you were his world, his everything. 

“Will you wed me? On the morrow?”

Satoru’s question hung in the air, a whisper filled with promise and longing. His eyes searched yours, looking for the answer he already knew but needed to hear. The sincerity in his gaze, the way he held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, made your heart swell with emotion.

“On the morrow?” you repeated, your voice a mixture of surprise and joy. It was a bold proposition, defying the expectations of the court and the king himself. Of the realm and tradition itself. Yet in Satoru’s arms, those concerns seemed distant, inconsequential. 

“Yes, my love.” he replied, his voice steady and sure. “I want the world to know that you are mine, not just in heart but in name.  I want them to see you as my wife. Let them see the strength of our bond, the truth of our love.”

The thought of becoming his wife, of sharing a future together free from the shadows of secrecy, sent a thrill through you. You could imagine the look on the faces of those who doubted your place beside him, the satisfaction of proving them wrong with every step you took as his bride. You would become a princess, you would become his queen. 

Your mouth opened for a moment, as though ready to say something. But you close it once again. You turned to him, looking into his blue eyes. They were ever so certain, already decided. Ever so clear. His love, it was only for you. His maiden fair. He was only waiting for you. A moment of silence passes you both by.

“I will, my love.” you answered, your voice filled with unwavering certainty. “I will wed you, Satoru, my love, my prince.”

His smile was radiant, a reflection of the joy that filled him. Your chest swells at the happiness that you could see in his face. You don’t think you have ever seen him this happy. He pulled you into another kiss, this one filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. It was a promise sealed with the warmth of his lips, a vow that transcended words.

“We will stand together, my love.” Satoru murmured against your mouth, his hands cradling your face with infinite care. “Through whatever flames may come, we will face them as one. I swear to you. I will choose only you.”

The certainty in his words, the unyielding strength of his conviction, wrapped around you like a protective embrace. In this moment, there was no room for doubt or fear—only the promise of a future where love triumphed over all.

As you lay entwined in each other’s arms, you felt a profound sense of peace, knowing that the morrow would bring a new beginning. The path ahead might be fraught with challenges, but with Satoru by your side, you were ready to face them all together. The dragon and the maiden fair.

[themotherofhorses]

foolish men dream foolish lives

summary: it is our fate, I think, to crave always what is given to another.

pairing: aemond targaryen x fem!targaryen!reader

warnings: explicit language. some small smut. voyeurism. breeding kink. incest between uncle and niece. allusion to pregnancy towards the end. aemond is a possessive little shit that does not mind breaking hearts and ruining lives.

notes: hi my little loves, please enjoy this little drabble i whipped up in like three hours this morning while i continue to work on the third part for my modern!reader series.

masterlist

Foolish men dream foolish lives, his lord father once said.

Looking back, this knight wished he believed it a little bit more.

He was a son of House Bywater, who left his homelands to take his summoning as a new houseguard for the royal family. By the request of the king, the Hand, Ser Otto Hightower, sent a raven to his family with the offer, and in the later summer months, the knight rode through the bronze gates of King’s Landing, excited and proud.

A moon later, the Kingsguards gave him sacred oaths to swear his life on, and then cloaked him in heavy chainmail and wools of blood-red and black. And from that day onward, he stood guard for the royal family, as they broke fast together in the mornings and slept at night and bustled around the Red Keep.

He found he grew favorable towards the Princess Helaena and her sweet children, as well as the Queen Alicent.

But none of them held a candle to the princess of Dragonstone.

He had not expected your arrival nor heard any news of it; instead, it came as a great surprise when he caught a small glimpse of you as you wandered through the castle hallways with your step-grandmother and aunt, dressed in a gown of the prettiest silks.

The People’s Princess, the court singers had named you. The only daughter born to Princess Rhaenyra and her royal consort, Prince Daemon, back on Dragonstone, you had been sent to King’s Landing for a marriage, he had then been told.

Perhaps his heart wept at that, but he could not remember.

You were like no other, bold and bright and beautiful as only one of dragon’s blood could be. Silver hair, and with the softest lilac eyes, you were of pure Valyrian blood, no doubt, highborn and a dragonrider.

He swore his heart and soul and sword to you and only you, though you had not the smallest clue. You were blind to his eyes, to his little gestures, and the protective nature he blanketed over you. Wherever you went, he was sure to follow, ever your shadow.

He loved you, so much so he thought his life unable to carry on if he could not have you.

But what could he do? Would a princess- like you- ever wed a simpleton of a royal houseguard, like him? Would a dragon of Old Valyria lay with a mere river fish of the crownlands?

And he thought himself very careful and secretive, figuring that no one could possibly know his feelings towards the princess. He bit his tongue and kept his gaze lowered to his feet whenever others took up the room she was in, and only worshipped her from afar.

Maybe if he prayed hard enough, to the Seven gods that seated themselves within the heavens, they would pity this poor knight, this white river fish, and bestow to him this princess as his wife.  

He smiled at that.

Yes, that would be wonderful.

And with that, he forgot his father’s words.

He had not meant to come across them.

The day had fallen to the evening, and he was making his way back to his room, tired and sore and hungry. And as he passed by one of the Keep’s little libraries, he overheard a sound. It was high-pitched and breathless, a woman’s moan.

Prince Aegon with one of his whores? He thought, curiously.

It was not his business, he knew, but he could not stop himself. He peered into the room, ever so slightly, mindful of any noise he made. And with what he saw, his heart broke.

His dear princess, the love of his miserable life, riding the second son of King Viserys II and Queen Alicent, the Prince Aemond One Eye. You bounced on his cock, fast and hard, resembling more a wonton and unashamed whore of the Street of Silk rather than the princess he knew and loved and desired.

Your pretty gown- his favorite of yours- crumpled around your waist, and both your ample breasts were yanked out from inside your bodice, with Aemond palming at them.

“How does it feel, my love? My darling girl, my sweet bride,” he heard Aemond ask, while sliding down a hand to rest on your hipbone. “Does it feel good? Tell me, how do I make you feel?”

You moaned, tossing your head back as your hips rocked, in some desperate attempt to match his thrusts. Your eyes fluttered close, and one of your hands flew to your breast, covering Aemond’s, whimpering a bit as he tweaked your nipple. “Oh! Oh, so good,” you mumbled, pretty face scrunching up in pleasure.

The knight could see the countless bruises and love bites scattered along your neck and breasts, and could not ignore the way your lips were pink and swollen.

“You’re so good for me, my love,” Aemond purred, “-so tight and perfect. Fucking made for my cock.”

The princeling was without his usual eyepatch, and the knight saw the blue sapphire he wore beneath in his empty eye socket. He had not believed it at first, waving it off as the lowborn’s stupid gossip. “My pretty bride, my beautiful wife. All mine,” and he flattened a hand against your shoulder blade, bending you down, so your face fell over his.

“Tell me that you want my seed, niece,” the prince hissed, through low grunts and moans, “beg me, wife. Beg me, and by tomorrow, our son will be in your belly.”  

“Aemond…!” you gasped out, fingers combing through his damp hair as you tugged his face and lips up to yours. “Please, uncle…! I want it- I need it! Oh, don’t make me beg, please, just give it to me,” you cried, pressing your forehead against his, your hips slamming against his own as you quickened your riding, feeling your cunt tightening around his cock.

“I promise…I promise to be a good wife! The best wife! A good mother…to our kids! Please, please!”

The knight could not watch any longer, almost in tears. He had not known that your uncle, Prince Aemond One Eye, was your intended betrothed. His beating heart felt pierced and frayed within his chest, and he wondered if his soul just died, along with every little hope and dream of a future by your side, as your husband and protector and father to your children.

He turned and resumed his way back to his room, trying to ignore the fading echoes of your ongoing little moans and whimpers, for the sake of what was left of his own dignity and sanity.

The next morning, after the royal family broke fast, Prince Aemond Targaryen pulled him aside.

There was a smirk twisted on his lips when he said, “My many thanks to you, my good knight, for keeping guard as my princess and I made our first child last night. When he is born, I shall ask for you to become his sworn protector, along with the rest of my children.”  

[flowerandblood]

The Impossible Choice (2)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, angst, sexual tension ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm's End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

He didn't want to get married. He didn't want ballast in the form of a woman who would require his constant attention, his tenderness and other feelings that he didn't have.

He didn't even hug his own mother, occasionally letting her touch his hand or shoulder; for physical relaxation, a servant or his own hand was enough for him, as a last resort some pretty maid.

He didn't need a wife in his life. Even if he had an heir, he had nothing to leave behind, knowing that he would not be king or inherit Dragonstone.

He knew that without Vhagar he would be nothing, and the thought made him even angrier.

The idea that his drunken brother, wandering around brothels all night was to become king, and that he, a well-read man, experienced in combat, was to watch him destroy the kingdom and their family.

His father and mother, however, insisted that he eventually fly to Storm's End and make the choice, so that the wedding date could be officially set. He had put it off as long as he could, but the time had come and he had to accept that, whether he wanted it or not, one of Lord Baratheon daughters would be his wife.

He decided that he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

When he mounted Vhagar, he prayed for patience, that he would not show his brutality and madness to them even before one of them became his wife.

Vhagar glided through rain and thunder, in the distance he could see the faint outline of Lord Baratheon's stronghold. When he landed on a hill nearby, he was ushered into the great hall by several guards, the whole room lit with torches and large shutters, he heard loud thunder in the distance, shaking the whole castle.

Lord Borros greeted him with a few meaningless sentences that he couldn't concentrate on anyway, his gaze traveled over the faces of his daughters, all of them similarly combed and dressed.

Equally dispassionate, arranged, trained.

He pursed his lips, noticing a frustrating detail that didn't escape his attention.

"I heard, Lord Baratheon, that you couldn't read but I didn't know that you couldn't count either." He said it loudly, coldly, giving him a defiant look, a mischievous smirk on his face that didn't mean that he was pleased at all.

Lord Borros shited restlessly on his lord's throne, swallowing the insult with difficulty, clearly tense, for a moment he didn't know what to say.

“My fifth daughter is too young and inexperienced in the things of life. She wouldn't be…”

"Order to bring her." He commanded, interrupting him mid-sentence, looking around the hall impatiently. Lord Borros motioned to one of the guards, who immediately ran towards the corridor.

He wondered what that might be about.

He didn't believe what the lord was saying, thought that perhaps the girl was defective or disabled and her father wanted to spare her humiliation.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the voice of one of her sisters, the tallest and most mature of them.

He saw her full breasts and looked away at the memory of the whore that Aegon had taken him to when he was only thirteen, riding him and forcing him to knead her enormous assets with his hands.

“Our sister is not prepared for marriage. Please, spare her this humiliation, my prince." She said with an effort for gentleness, a feigned kindness and concern that her own words belied. He stared at her blankly, wondering if she really thought that she was playing her part well.

"Speaking without permission in front of a prince also does not reflect well on your preparation for marriage, my lady." He snarled in such a way that the girl froze, dropping her eyes quickly, all red with humiliation. He looked away from her when he heard loud footsteps and saw her.

He wondered if she was a servant girl or indeed Lord Baratheon's daughter, her large, bright eyes stared at him in horror, dark, wet locks of her hair sticked to her face in such a way that it looked downright endearing. She was breathing rapidly through her mouth, her fleshy, wet lips parted and quivering.

The contrast between her and her sisters struck him, they, standing like statues, dressed in ornate gowns, looked like goods for sale, she, shivering, warm, terrified, was painfully alive, she had a pretty, gentle face and her curves, though not so full and mature, lacked nothing.

Her father's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“This is my youngest daughter, my prince. As I said, I felt that she was not properly prepared to fulfill her responsibilities as your wife." Lord Baratheon said carefully.

He wanted to laugh at the helplessness of his words, the fear that he would take away his hidden treasure.

Apparently there was something about her that made him want to keep her for himself, when he was able to give away his other daughters at the same time.

However, he did not show his amusement, keeping straight face, watching her intensely. He felt surprised that his manhood pulsed in his breeches at the thought of her being unable to look away from him, staring shamelessly straight into his eye.

If she had been his, he would have shown her how to behave around a prince, would explain to her in detail what he expected of her, raise her as he saw fit.

"I will decide that, Lord Baratheon. Wasn't that the deal?” He asked coldly, menacingly, only then looking away from her.

Lord Baratheon shifted restlessly on his throne, desperate, he liked the way he looked, writhing helplessly before him.

He approached the first of the sisters, the one who had dared to speak to him unasked. He grabbed her jaw and kissed her, wanting to see how she tasted like, how her body felt.

He knew that he had no right to do this, but no one could stop him.

No one would dare to oppose him.

The girl sighed softly into his lips, opening her mouth invitingly, shamelessly, he pulled away from her as she wanted to put her tongue in his throat, thinking that she was hopelessly desperate.

The other sister when he kissed her pursed her lips in fear, breathing fast. He released her almost immediately, deciding that he didn't need a woman who would run away from him at the sight of him.

The next two sisters didn't impress him either, pretending that his kiss gave them pleasure, that he was the one that they desired.

He knew it wasn't him they wanted, but their idea of him, his position, his title, they wanted to feel like princesses and be treated as such.

He thought that it was one big misunderstanding.

He turned to their youngest sister and saw that she wasn't looking at him, but at the ceiling.

For some reason, that little detail, that she dared not look at him, ignore him, frustrated him.

He walked over to her and grabbed her cheeks in his hand more brutally than he originally intended, forcing her to look at him.

He saw more than fear in her eyes.

He saw begging.

She begged him not to take her with him.

She begged him not to hurt her.

He felt a pleasant shudder at the thought that she had asked him without words, and he could do what he wanted with that request. He stared at her parted, puffy, pink lips, thinking that he at least wanted to taste her, like a sweet, fresh fruit.

He leaned over her but stopped when he felt her draw in a sharp breath, her whole body quivering, her eyes widening in horror. He ran his thumb across her cheek, wanting her to calm down, to let him do what he wanted.

She looked at him again, softer, more dreamly this time, her soft lips parted sweetly, invitingly. He thought that this is what she might look like lying underneath him and felt his manhood throb painfully once again.

He dug into her lips like a sweet nectar and was delighted to feel that she hadn't pressed her lips, allowing him to enjoy the softness of her fleshy, moist skin.

She smelled of some delicate, feminine, sweet oils, rain and sweat, something primal, exciting. Encouraged, he deepened the kiss, wanting to feel her more, the taste of her saliva spreading across his palate like a fruit flesh.

He shivered as she dared to touch him, her hand pressed against his arm as if she wanted to push him away, yet hold him to her, undecided, he wanted to clamp his free hand in her hair and pull her to him, break her resistance, show her how a prince should be treated.

She was sweet and innocent, untainted, like a blank book that he could fill out as he pleased. He thought that he wanted her eyes, her lips, her hands, her pleas, her tears for himself.

She could give him what he really desired.

He pulled away from her, staring at her flushed, embarrassed face and saw that she looked away from him again.

He decided that when she arrived at King's Landing, this would be where they would start.

That she would never look away when he was standing in front of her.

"Her." He spoke impassively, coldly, decisively.

He felt with satisfaction how a shudder went through her body, how she immediately looked to her father to seek his help and thought, amused, that her father wouldn't help her.

He released her, turning tensely, heading for the main entrance, hearing Lord Baratheon mumble something under his breath, it took all his strength not to laugh in his face.

"I've already made my decision." He spoke loudly, matter-of-factly, as he left the hall.

He made his way to where Vhagar was resting, the storm unleashing around them in earnest, the downpour making him barely able to see anything.

He had not thought flying to Storm's End that he would feel such savage satisfaction returning to King's Landing.

He wanted this girl.

He wanted her for himself.

He wanted her terrified eyes, her untamedness, her softness, her sweetness.

He felt like a finished man, deep down he felt and knew who he was.

A monster inside and out.

All his life he had to take what was due to him by force. He knew that it was the only way − to snatch something from the gods against their will, tip the scales in his favor.

He knew that it would be the same with her, that she will not give him anything from her own free will and everything he would get from her would come from her fear and his superiority, his status, which forced her to submit.

What aroused him the most was knowledge that she wouldn't make this easy for him, that she would fight him, but he would win, he would always win, always his word will be the last, his will will be above hers, every time she will have to humble herself, agree with him, obey him, her husband.

He flew on Vhagar through thunder and rain, sinking into darkness, closing his eye, throwing his head back, soaring into the abyss.

Upon returning to the Red Keep, he informed his mother and father of his choice, but gave them no details.

He wasn't going to explain himself.

He did what he had to do.

When his mother announced to him that a date of their nuptials had been set, he no longer felt the frustration and rage that accompanied him before he chose his future wife and was surprised to find that he was getting impatient now.

He wondered if she was very distressed, did she cry because of him every day, did she think about their wedding night.

He thought of her every evening, as he relieved himself with his hand.

About the fact that he will be able to touch her everywhere.

That her body will belong only to him.

Her every look, sigh, moan.

The thought that she was a maiden made him thirsty even more.

The fact that he will show her everything, that he will open the door for her, the door to the pleasure of her own body − if only she will be obedient and polite.

He squeezed his eye shut at the thought, drifting off into his own fantasy world, involuntarily sliding his hand down to the material of his breeches, untying them.

When his mother informed him that Lady Baratheon would be arriving in King's Landing in a few days, he could barely suppress a smirk of satisfaction from her. The truth was that he was growing impatient, wanting to have her with him now to see what he could do with her.

He wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep his hands to himself until their wedding and thought that nothing bad would have happened if he had taken her sooner.

She was going to be his wife anyway.

On the day of her arrival he had fought hard with himself and with the temptation to welcome her with Ser Criston on the port, however, he gave up on this idea.

He didn't want her to think that he had any kind of affection for her, that she can soften him, change him, put him in order like a dog.

No, he thought, he would never allow that.

He waited in his mother-queen's chamber for her arrival, his heart pounding hard in anticipation.

He wondered would she look even more beautiful in a gown like the one her sisters were wearing, all pale, scared, sweet.

His.

He shuddered and twisted in his chair, crossing his legs as their servant entered the chamber, bowing low, not daring to look at them.

"Your Grace, Lady Baratheon has arrived."

_____

Thank you for such a warm welcome to the first part. 💖

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla @echos-muses @slainey @letmeloveyouuuu

Others: @dreamymoomin @thedamewithabook @dc-marvel-girl96 @zillahvathek @helaenaluvr @tssf-imagines

[fictionplumis]

Dreamling: Arranged Marriage AU

This idea won't leave me alone until I write it. A Dreamling arranged marriage AU where Night decides her children could stand to be a little closer to mortals lest they end up like their father and completely separated from them, so she decides one of them needs to take on a mortal consort--who would then become immortal, no she does not think this would eventually compromise the integrity of her idea. Ideally, all of them would have a mortal consort, but even she recognizes the problem with that. Destiny doesn't meddle in mortal affairs at all, Death is far too busy, Destruction has been pulling back from his duties and neglecting his realm (he's still there, for now, but they all know he's not really doing anything anymore, they just don't know how to bring it up to him), Desire is far too immature, making a mortal spend eternity with Despair would be cruel, and Delirium would drive her spouse insane.

So it's decided that Dream (this is about Sandman, not the YouTuber, if this post breaks containment PLEASE understand this is about the Sandman NOT the YouTuber) is the only suitable candidate, and the others will just have to experience mortals through their sibling-in-law. Night declares it, says she doesn't care how it's done as long as it's done, the end. 

(I'm sorry all you people that want Night and Time to be good supportive parents, but I read Overture, they fucking suck. Night will not show up to the wedding because she's already written off her children as selfish and ungrateful anyway, this is in part a way to punish them and to punish Dream, and Time finds this ridiculous but knows it will happen, has already happened, is happening, and he doesn't really care.)

Dream hates this. If he had his choice he would pluck the first mortal up, marry them, and promptly forget about them and go back to ruling his realm. That's why his siblings decide that he cannot, under any circumstances, be in charge of this.

Instead they decide on a friendly competition. They will each (all except for Destiny, who already knows the various different outcomes and has decided to observe but not participate) pick a candidate for Dream. The Endless don't really abide by silly things like linear time and whatnot, so it could literally be any mortal they nominate. They will each then devise a trial to test what they each believe to be an important quality necessary to marry Dream of the Endless and become Prince Consort of the Dreaming. All candidates will be put through the tests until there's one remaining. 

(I'm sorry, Calliope will not be in this because I can't think of a realistic way she would be eliminated and she's technically not mortal anyway.)

Death finds her candidate in a dingy tavern on Earth, circa 1389, when she overhears a drunken snippet of conversation. A man boldly claiming she's stupid and he's going to live forever. It's a jest, she knows. He doesn't actually believe he'll live forever, but there is the desire to within him and in thirty seconds he's proven himself a natural storyteller. It's a whim that she approaches him with an amused, "Did I hear that right, you intend to live forever?" 

The table goes silent. Hob's companions are smirking between him and the woman suggestively and Hob waves them off with a laugh. "Aye, that's right." 

"I believe you and I need to talk, then. Somewhere more private." 

There's some immature tutting from his mates, and Hob looks surprised and thrilled all at once, because she's very beautiful though why she's interested in him when her outfit implies she's chaste-- But hell if he's going to pass up the opportunity, so he goes with her, tries to make a move on her the second they're around the corner and she laughs in his face, easily bats him away, and goes, "You're cute, but not my type, Robert Gadling. No, I'm here to offer you a chance at immortality." 

He grows wary at first. Asks if she's the devil, but she just stares at him patiently until he realizes who she is and stumbles back in fear and surprise, only to be laughed at again. Kinder, this time. 

"I'm not here to take you, though..." She eyes the tankard in his hand with raised brows. "It is a shame you didn't lay off the ale sooner." He quickly sets the tankard down and steps away from it. 

The deal is this. He'll be part of a competition, though he won't know it or remember this conversation. Should he win, he'll be immortal. If he loses, he'll be returned to his life right before she approached him, to live out what few hours he has left, never remembering any of this. She leaves out how he'll become immortal, leaves out that he'll end up marrying her sullen little brother and becoming Prince Consort to his realm, but what are the changes he'll win anyway?

Dream is surprised to find that each of his siblings picks someone that does, on some level, appeal to him. He's a romantic at heart, it's hard not to fall a little bit in love with each other of them as he watches how this plays out.

The competition is this: 

Each candidate will live what they perceive to be four lifetimes in a dream. For the most part, they're just going to be jumping from important decision to important decision, with the blanks filled in for them through false memories to make it feel like it's been four lifetimes and not a few days at most. At the end of each lifetime, they'll be asked if they wish to continue living. That is Death's trial, because anyone marrying an Endless must be resilient enough to keep going. 

The first lifetime is Despair's test, in which the candidates discover that they won't age, they won't die, that their life may very well be unending. They lose their families, their friends, and realize that they always will. They don't know if there's any way to opt out or not, so for all they know, one day in the very distance future, they will be the only one left. Despair wants to make sure the idea of Endlessness is not a curse for Dream's spouse to bear, though she herself would thrive off that, personally.

Ironically, it's Despair's candidate, the queen of the first human civilization, that falls to this test. Nada lives the first lifetime without ever knowing true, passionate love. She's pushed into marrying someone who is a good ruler for her people, and when they pass, she marries someone else who is also a good ruler for her people, and she sees that there are those besides herself who have the judgement necessary to rule. She's proud of the city she's created, she's proud of her people, and the idea of eventually watching them die and come to an end as all things do, it kills her inside. It doesn't matter that it might be millennia from now. When a gentle voice asks one day if she wishes to continue living, she contemplates it, contemplates her current husband, closes her eyes, and says, "No. I think it's time for a new queen to rule my people." 

Hob, on the other hand, has spent his lifetime fighting, mostly, a bit of highway robbery when he couldn't find a war. Lots of brothels. He's eaten stuff he shouldn't have, gotten himself mortally injured more than a few times, bounced back from it, and now he's into this printing thing. No guilds to restrict it yet, it pays well, and he's been teaching himself how to read. He's sitting in an inn, drinking ale next to the hearth, no smoke in his eyes, and thinking about swindling the table next to him in a round of cards to pay for some more ale. When the same voices asks him if wishes to keep living, his eyes get bright and he answers, "Oh yes." The thought of what his immortality might mean never really crossed his mind. He lost people, sure, but he would have lost them anyway, and there's always more people to meet. This is amazing. 

The second lifetime is Desire's test. Desire, who actually cares on some level, in their own way, and knows that if their big brother marries an idiot, they'll have to put up with them, so they have to make sure Dream marries someone halfway decent. Someone who might keep him busy. Someone who desires things strongly, but is not so ruled by them that they'll give up their duty to chase distractions, nor will they give up if Dream doesn't desire them the way they wish--which is very likely. In Desire's test, each candidate is given people to love, fully and completely, with all their heart, and are forced to watch that thing die violently and terribly only to be asked right afterwards if they still wish to live. 

Delirium's candidate is Killala of the Glow, who finds out that the beautiful green star of her solar system, which is the cause of her power, is a conscious, living thing. And he loves her. He is everything she ever wanted. With him, her powers grow. She learns to use them better, to get stronger with them, to understand them and herself. It shouldn't have happened so soon, they should have had millennia together, but something happens and he has just enough time to warn her, to explain that he's dying and that she needs to be strong and use her powers to shield her world from him or his death will raze it all to the ground. She doesn't understand how this could happen, she can't concentrate through her grief, her planet is destroyed and as she's floating amongst the burning cold heat of her lover collapsing in on himself, she's asked if she still wishes to live and she says no. 

Hob meets Eleanor, who is charming and funny and matches him wit for wit. She doesn't ask about his past or how he acquired his money. He's never been in love before. He thought he would continue finding his companionship in brothels and had felt perfectly content with that, but now there's her, and he wants so very badly to marry her, to be her escape away from her traditionalist of a father who stifles her wit into silence. So he does. And he has a son, a beautiful baby boy that he promises the world to. Then there's the promise of another child, and he's thrilled. 

He's there in the room, holding Eleanor's hand, terrified when she goes into labor months earlier than planned. She's in so much pain. The baby isn't crying. The midwife is trying desperately to stop the bleeding. The blood is still warm on Hob's skin and clothing as he holds Eleanor's lifeless body and sobs. His son needs a mother. Needs a father but he knows, in that moment, that he will be a useless one to the boy like this. Robyn has his temper, he'll die too young and Hob will have failed him. 

When he's asked if he wishes to keep living, he thinks of how the blood is still warm on his skin, and how ashen Eleanor looks in his arms, and he brushes her hair back from her face and says, brokenly, "Someone has to remember her. She wouldn't... She wouldn't want me to give up, now would she?" 

Delirium knows better than any endless how pain and suffering can break a mind. Dream is the Lord of Nightmares as much as he is the Lord of Dreams. Or maybe she was just feeling particularly sadistic because she doesn't understand why she can't get married, she would love to get married, she could turn her spouse into bubbles and they would look so pretty floating around her realm, or maybe even glitter, or frogs! But no, she's not getting married, Dream is, and Dream is mean sometimes, so maybe she just decides to be mean to whoever he gets to married. It's hard to tell if even she knows her own motivation. 

But the candidates suffer for her trial, pushed to their breaking points and then past them. 

Destruction's candidate has never really known suffering before these trials. Or living, really. See, Destruction hadn't actually gone out to try to find someone for Dream, he had been busy trying to learn how to carve a piece of marble into a shape without reducing it to rubble. Once everyone else had found their candidate, he went to Desire and was like, "Hey, so..." 

Desire sighed, and rolled their eyes, and was like, "Fine, I'll help you. I'll construct a woman to be your candidate. If I don't win, maybe you will." 

Thus Alianora was created. She's strong, smart, and while she can handle loss, she was created to be a lover. To be loved. To be a partner. Under Delirium's trial, she is alone, she suffers alone, no one pays her any mind or they hurt her worse, and she withers. She grows morose, she grows desperate, she grows hysterical in her isolation. She loses her mind. She never does answer the question of whether or not she wishes to keep living. It's questionable if she can answer the question, if she even fully understands it. Unfortunately, there is no coming back from such a thing, even if they fix her mind and these trials became like just a dream to her. There's no place for her to go now that she's lost this trial, no home for her to go back to. She's the only true causality of this game and Dream, aching for her and bitter over Desire's causal indifference, makes a Dreamscape for Alianora to live in where she'll never be alone. It's the least he can do.

Hob goes a touch insane himself, but the cracks in his mind are strategic. Like crumple zones in a car, it's to survive what comes next. He's drowned as a witch. Over and over, rocks tied to his ankles, tossed into the water, and every time he surfaces they catch him and do it all over again. Again and again. Dirty pond water filling his lungs, his chest fit to burst, throat and nose raw from inhaling liquid, skin clammy and near rotten. He lets himself break so that when the moment for real escape presents itself, he's not so gone that he misses the opportunity or that he stupidly cocks it all up. 

He does escape, but he's lost everything in a world where value is determined by wealth. He sleeps on the street, mutters to himself, has arguments with made up people in an attempt to kept his mind sharp and to distract himself from the decades where he starves and starves but never dies, his stomach endlessly digesting itself and he throws up what little bit of scraps he can get his hands on, which just makes it worse. 

When he's asked if he still wishes to live, he tosses his head back and laughs, startling a couple people walking past him on the street, who walk a bit quicker, and he asks, "Are you crazy?" Dream is leaned in where they watch these dreams projected above the family meeting table, and if one paid attention they might see that his eyes were rimmed red, thinking that Delirium's trial would claim another. At least he could be fixed, and would soon after go to the Sunless Lands to live in peace. He deserved that. They all did. 

"Death is a mug's game! I have so much left to live for!" 

And now there are two left to face down Destruction's trial. 

Destruction may not have put effort into finding a suitable candidate, but he did devise a good trial. While his brother did need someone strong and resilient, they had to be what Dream lacked as well. They needed to be flexible. They needed to learn and grow from their mistakes. They needed to have compassion. All of these things to teach Dream the same, to encourage these things during the moments that Dream lacks them. His trial isn't about pushing the candidates into choosing Death, there's a very clear answer to his and if the candidate does not find it, they fail, whether they want to continue living or not. 

Desire's candidate has yet to break. She has no intention of dying. She's more than willing to let go of what she desires if it means furthering her ambitions. Suffering doesn't break her, it only pisses her off. Dream isn't sure what to think of this woman. He doesn't really like her on a personal level, she would be nothing but trouble actually, but there is a certain appeal to her. He would never have to worry about hurting her unintentionally, at least. But she's greedy and she doesn't care who she hurts to get her way. And when Destruction's test rewrites her memories to have it where her immortality is granted to her through the blood of other witches, of her sisters, killed by her and sacrificed to the Hecate, the Three-in-One, the One Who is Three, and that more will die by her hands to keep living, she feels a twinge of grief and guilt. 

So Thessaly simply decides to not think about it. She misses them, but it's just proof that she was stronger than them. Smarter than them. That she deserved to be here instead of dying out with them. And if she's able to continue making these sacrifices, if no one is able to stop her, then clearly it's just more proof she deserves this. 

She fails, and no amount of Desire calling bullshit on Destruction's verdict changes his mind. 

Hob, meanwhile, has rebuilt his life. His fortune. He's living well again, he's at no risk of starving, no need to fight in anymore wars because he has pockets of money all across the world he can run off to at the first sign of trouble. He has connections and a successful business. 

He's talking with someone about said business only to have them eye him judgmentally. He's told, "It is a poor thing to enslave another." 

He's a bit rankled at being called out on it. He shrugs, says that's just how it's done, because it is. It is. And at first it looks like he's going to fail too and this whole venture will have to be start all over, new candidates found, but as they watch him, the words aren't easily pushed from his mind. He dwells on them. He starts going through charters and logs. He gets restless sitting at home, surrounded by his newly regained wealth. He starts contacting his ships, digging into their practices that's never really taken the time to learn the specifics of before. A captain offers to let Hob sail a round with him so he could show off how safe the investment is, fearing that perhaps Hob is only questioning because he's afraid of potential repercussions.

He's shown how people are collected. Chained together. The conditions they're kept in on ship, the treatment the sailors give them. The captain explains that if they're pursued, it's easy enough to dump the cargo into the ocean, the chains ensure they all sink, no one is the wiser. 

They don't leave port until everyone is loaded off the ship, and Hob demands they go straight back to England. He contacts every ship in his business and puts a stop to it. Cuts every shipping tie he has and when captains tell him he'll never make another quid, he tells him them he doesn't care, it's not worth it. The guilt still eats at him. It's not enough to make him forget the imagined faces of all the lives he's destroyed, drowning the same way he had, again and again, or resigned to a fate worse than death in most cases. He drinks himself into a stupor most nights. 

He's drunk when he's asked if he still wishes to live. It's not the kind, understanding woman's voice that usually asks. It's a man's, soft and deep, curious, and Hob swirls his glass of brandy, contemplating whether he deserves to or not when he was responsible for the death of so many innocents. They weren't killed in a fight, they didn't have anything worth taking from them, it was just cruelty against helpless people. He swings back the rest of his drink and mutters, bitterly, "History has a way of erasing these things, doesn't it? It forgets what it doesn't want to remember. Someone needs to remember. Someone needs to remind people of this. It won't ever be enough to make up for what I've allowed, but this is something I must live with. To die now and let the world forget would make me a coward shirking responsibility for myself." 

Just like that, he's sober again and standing in a room that's a mix of the time periods he lived through in his dream. It's warm, inviting. There's a four poster bed, a large hearth with piles of comfortable pillows in front of it. An oak wardrobe simply carved but beautiful. Rugs over stone floors. There's a large balcony that lets in plenty of natural light, and it overlooks fantastical mountains in the distance, and a harbor filled with ships of every kind, and sea serpents lazily winding their way through them. Hob had never given much thought to what his perfect room would look like, but he knows he's standing in it. 

The dream he lived through feels like a dream, it's hazy and indistinct, disconnected from the emotions that he once felt were so real and consumed by. But he's not the same man he was when it started. He's retained the lessons learned about living, about compassion, he's more mature, he still remembers how to read. It's all still there, but the loss and grief and guilt are distant now, more like a story he read than a life he lived. 

And Death is there with him, dressed in black jeans and a tank top, smiling proudly at him. He suddenly remembers the competition and has a brief moment of panic, blurts out, "Oh god, I lost and drunk myself to death and this is heaven--" 

"No, you won, Hob!"

"What?"

"You won!" And then she has to explain that while yes, he technically will be immortal, it's only because he now has to marry her little brother. They move out to the balcony and she explains that they're in the Dreaming and what that means while Hob looks around in awe. "He's not bad, my brother," she assures. "He's a bit distant, mostly. A stickler for his rules. He's prideful and can have quite temper if you insult that. It's wise to remember that he rules dreams and nightmares here. But at worst, he'll probably go back to his work and forget you exist, and you'll have the whole of his realm to explore. Unfortunately, you can't back out now." 

"Oh, I wouldn't if I could," Hob assures quickly, waving the concern off. "Marrying a nightmare sure beats rotting to maggots in the ground. I'll take it. What's expected of me?" 

She tells him that he probably won't have any actual duties, and Prince Consort will more than likely just be a title. Theoretically, Hob could hold sway over the Dreaming nearly as much as Dream did, but that required getting close to Dream. "Consummating your marriage," she tactfully puts it. "Each time you got closer to my brother, each time he lets you closer and as his trust and care grows, you would find the Dreaming responding easier and easier to you. The Dreaming is an extension of him, after all. And it's better that way, because you're immortal but still human, and suddenly having awareness of this would be way too much to pile on your mind all at once. But I doubt you'll have to worry about it. My brother seems curious about you but he's stubborn and easily distracted."

The wedding happens that night. 

Hob hasn't met his betrothed yet. 

Death dresses him in a stunning white suit with gold accents. His cravat is the finest woven white silk, embroidered in gold. He has a halo of gold light. There's a bloody cape. It drapes like heavy velvet but it's light and sheer and glitters like stars. He's a nervous wreck and she laughs gently and assures him that he'll know what to do when the time comes. 

Everything that dreams attends the wedding. It shouldn't have been possible to fit so many people in a room, but they're there. It should have taken years for Hob to walk down the aisle to the staircase to the raised dais and the throne, but it was a short walk and the whole time Hob can do nothing but stare at the man standing in front of the throne who has his chin raised, his dark eyes a host of starlight. He does seem vaguely curious. And haughty. And prideful. And beautiful. He's dressed in a similar suit of black, his sheer cape swirling with galaxies and nebula, and there's a sword of obsidian glass in his hands, the point resting gently against the stone floor. 

Hob knows intuitively to kneel the second he ascends the last stair, but he can't quite manage to duck his head like he knows is proper because he can't look away from this creature. Thankfully it produces something startlingly close to amusement in his betrothed. 

"Robert Gadling," he murmurs, his voice soft but carrying, the same one that had last asked him if he wished to live. He holds out his hand, a ruby ring already on his finger. "Swear your fealty to me." And then lower, softer, just between the two of them, "Do not be nervous, the words will come." 

And they do. A bit breathless, but they come after Hob reaches for the hand and presses his lips to the ring, his eyes still on the entity soon to be his husband in what has to be the weird marriage ritual of all time. "I swear my undying fealty to you, Morpheus, Lord of the Dreaming, Ruler of the Nightmare Realms, Prince of Stories and Shaper of Form. I swear to reside at your side, to give my loyalty to you and this Realm first and foremost, and to never raise a hand or support any threat to the denizens here. I am yours, Dream of the Endless." The words tighten through his chest like a binding and good lord, there's the smallest little smile on the Lord's face and he doesn't have a halo but the way the light from the stained glass windows behind him shines, it looks like he does and it's beautiful. 

Dream takes back his hand. He raises his sword and taps both of Hob's shoulders. At the second one, Hob feels the weight of a ring on his own finger. "Arise, Prince Consort of the Dreaming." 

Most people leave after that, they wake up and go about their lives, knowing something changed but not sure what. Some stay, and there's some mingling, and a reception dinner, and Hob barely gets a second to say two words to his husband. He's introduced to family, to Titania and motherfucking Lucifer. A librarian gives him her congratulations, a scarecrow with a pumpkin heads does so with a bit more reluctance and wariness, a raven with a white breast chats with him. She explains that she retired not too long ago, and nods towards a larger raven currently trying to figure out how to get his head into a champagne glass, explaining that he's her replacement. Despite how stupid he looks, she assures Hob that he's a good raven. 

There's a murder at one point. A man is stabbed through the eye with a serving fork. Some blond man in sunglasses looks intrigued by the turn of events, but he's the only one that bothers to react. The murderer tells him not to fucking try it, and then drags the body off. His husband merely tells him that it's normal and fine and that's pretty much the most he says aside from introducing Hob to people and staring at him from the corner of his black eyes. It's a whirlwind night and Hob ends it champagne drunk and passed out alone in his bed in his private quarters, not realizing until morning that he doesn't even know how to find his way around, let alone where the fuck his husband's room is. 

But when he stares at the ruby on his ring in the morning, he knows that he won't stop trying to woo his husband until they are properly, happily married, because one glimpse and Hob Gadling or whatever his surname was now, was most definitely head over heels in love. And thus begins the long and arduous process of courting his husband, the most stubborn man in existence, who is terrified of falling of in love and potentially being too much and would just rather keep his distance thank you very much. He makes it hard for Hob, until Hob remembers Death explaining that the Dreaming was an extension of him. If getting closer to Dream makes him closer to the Dreaming, maybe getting closer to the Dreaming will make him closer to Dream? It's worth a shot.

At the very least, Dream definitely takes note of the way everyone in his realm seems to be so smitten with his Prince Consort all of the sudden.

And that's it, that's all I have. I'm yeeting this out there to get it out of my head and now that you have it, you're free to do whatever you want with it. Change it up, write it, draw it, whatever, I don't care, you can have it now, just tell me if you do something with it because I wanna see okay thanks byee.

[tarulink]

OOT Zelink is possible after Majora's Mask (theory 2024)

We don't really know what happened after MM so everything is possible until Nintendo denies it so here is my theory:

Everyone thinks that the only place Link could go after his trip through Termina is Lon Lon Ranch, but what if not? After all the last memories he had were about Zelda wishing she could meet Link again, she was THE ONLY PERSON who actually waited for him after his trip. THIS IS IMPORTANT!!

So after his trip he goes to Zelda and tells her everything that happened to him, she believes him, in fact she might be the only person who believes him because he believed her when she had her visions of Ganondorf.

Link does not necessarily have to have worked on the ranch, there are many other jobs in castle town, I would like to think that he got a job near the castle so he could continue meeting Zelda.

As the years go by their relationship becomes even closer, unfortunately Zelda has to marry someone else so Link decides to continue his life without her. He meets someone else and they get along well, he decides to rebuild his life and marries that woman (Maybe that's why Nintendo never said with whom he had a child, because it was probably with a random woman we don't even know lmao). He has a daughter (I would like to think he has a girl) and thinks she is the most important thing he has now in his life.

Zelda does not love her husband but by the laws of nobility she has to give him an heir. Zelda becomes pregnant and although she does not love her husband, she loves her baby. She thinks it is the most important thing she has in her life now.

Link and Zelda rarely communicate because they already have priorities to maintain (each one with their children).

If you notice this is where the lineage of TP Link and TP Zelda is born!

As fate would have it Link's marriage doesn't work out and he gets divorced or she leaves him with his daughter.

The king passes away.

Do you see where I'm going with all this?

Zelda as queen can do whatever she wants now, so she goes to visit Link after so long. They both talk about their lives and realize they still have romantic feelings for each other. Zelda offers Link to be her personal knight and he unhesitatingly accepts, she gives him a special armor (the armor we see in Twilight Princess).

He becomes her prince consort.

However they have no children or maybe they had one but that son never had descendants Take it as you wish!

We don't know how exactly Link died, but everything points to the fact that he died in a war and lost his eye. Maybe he knew he wouldn't survive and that's why he went to the Lost Forest, dying there and regretting not having taught his techniques, so his spirit stays there until the other chosen one arrives to teach him his techniques.

Zelda is widowed again, that's why we see Link's grave in the castle graveyard in Twilight Princess (like why would his grave be in the castle?)

Years go by and both Link's daughter and Zelda's child grow up. Link's daughter decides to leave the castle and make her life elsewhere, she takes Epona with her, playing the song that HER FATHER taught her (because it is not necessary for Link to have married Malon to learn Epona's song)

Zelda's child takes the throne once she dies.

So with this we have the birth of TP Link and TP Zelda many years later. The reason I don't support the Link and Malon theory is because I find many inconsistencies: TP Link is an orphan, he lives in a tree not in the ranch (he doesn't even own it, the ranch belongs to Fado and he is a human) Link is the only Hylian in Ordon. It's probably that Jaggle or Pergie are descendants of Malon bc their sons are named Malo and Talo (probably she married a human knight or probably Nintendo just put those names bc yes lol)

Also remember Sheik's words? Young love become deep affection Link and Zelda spent time together before Link went on a trip to Termina, I think these words are a reference to them, how much they care about each other ♡

Of course these are my thoughts, you may agree or disagree with me!

[sugarpopss]

Lamb, Pig, It's All The Same

Alright here's more Aegon with gout fic. idk. I don't have a tag list but I am gonna tag @bucknastysbabe bc I bounced some of this off of her before it sat in my drafts for two months, and @who-told-you-this-was-butter and @khaleesihel bc they're my howl drool cream over Aegon buddies

Fem reader, Aegon being a pathetic whore but like in a fun sexy way

The gout preferred to strike at night. It would violently jerk Aegon from his slumber and have him crying out with the sudden pain, panicked thrashing hindered by both his afflicted joint and his swollen stomach-for your husband did so love to gorge himself into drowsiness, despite repeated warnings from the maesters and scoldings from his own mother. 

It was Aegons gasping and crying that usually awoke you. The overwhelming panic you’d felt at the beginning of your marriage, when you’d known nothing of the crown princes illness-possibly by design, but you’d not be caught making the accusation-had been overcome in the months since the first, terrifying night. By the time the summertime warmth of your wedding had frozen into winter, you were wrapping your arms around Aegon before you were even fully awake. He always leaned into you with all of his weight, seeking the comfort you provided him like a lamb searching for its mothers shadow. 

“Hush, dearheart, it’ll fade. You know it will fade soon enough.” 

It was all nonsense, really, that you murmured into his hair, but your soothing words and safe embrace gave Aegon something to anchor himself to while the pain ran its violent course. Despite the constant, grating irritation that usually marked Aegons presence in a room-and that ground your nerves to dust time and time again-his cries made your heart ache. Perhaps you were simply weak for a beautiful man in distress, because you always found yourself coming to his side when he glutted himself like a prized hog then whined so pathetically for you to soothe his belly. 

When Aegon sniffled against your shoulder you just couldn’t help but to coo and stroke his hair. Nevermind the tears and mucus he was no doubt spreading all over the fine Myrish lace of your nightgown, the idiot usurper-your idiot usurper-was in pain and frightened. And although it surely made you a damnably terrible person, you found Aegon to be at his sweetest when he was reeling and needy. Not completely lost in the throes of the pain, of course, but when the attack began to ease and he nuzzled against your skin, seeking warmth and comfort and kind words and rewarding you with his gorgeous lilac eyes, red rimmed and watery, turned up to you with all of the mindless trust of a newborn lamb. 

The knowledge that Aegon only sought your comfort because you happened to be closer at hand than a jug of wine did little to sour how much you enjoyed peppering kisses over his fever warm cheeks-cheeks which only seemed to grow fuller and rounder time trod on, but gout was not called the ‘fat mans disease’ for nothing. The fool was nearly incapable of self soothing without something in his mouth, a fact that had perhaps led your mind towards less appropriate thoughts of a hypothetical night upon which, after the pain had faded to a more manageable ache, you’d shrug off your nightgown and offer him your breast. You were confident that Aegon would take it eagerly, after all. Doesn’t every pathetic lamb need something to nurse? 

Sometimes you gave up on holding him altogether and applied a cold herbal compress to his inflamed knee. As you sat on the edge of your own marital bed and pressed the damp, sticky rags to Aegons knee and watched him writhe and cry, your thoughts always grew strange. The affection-fine, perhaps a little bit of power as well-you felt while holding and comforting your husband went quiet. In its place arose thoughts of the Queen Consort tending to her own ailing Targaryen. You didn’t enjoy these thoughts, but they came nonetheless. Perhaps these men with dragons blood in their veins were somehow prone to affliction, or perhaps it was as simple as the fact that a loyal wife and a nursemaid were very much interchangeable. 

Even if you were slightly uncertain whether you’d care for Aegons pain at all if he wasn’t so beautiful and needy and helpless when it struck. 

Perhaps this man, this family, this city-they all brought out the worst in you. Or perhaps you were just a little too fond of your husbands flushed face and hitching cries. 

[markantonys]

i was thinking about the "show!thom assumed in s1 that mat and rand are dating and baffles mat by making reference to this in tanchico in s3" premise and have come up with an even better premise: thom assumed in s1 that mat and rand are dating, but does NOT ever make reference to this in mat's hearing in s3, but DOES make reference to it in elayne's hearing.

and so we have:

elayne, pining, because she has a crush on both rand and mat but thinks they're dating each other because thom told her so and mat has never refuted it (because he has no idea thom and elayne think this because they've never talked about it in front of him), and so much the better because they'd both hate prince consort life and she might have to marry for politics anyway and even if she could marry one of them she would always have to put her duties over their marriage, and they both deserve better than her i.e. each other

mat, pining, because he has a crush on both rand and elayne but thinks they're dating each other because they spent so much time closeted up together in falme to "discuss politics" which mat is convinced is a euphemism for sex, and so much the better because they're both so beautiful and good and smart and powerful and mat is a good-for-nothing cringefail loserboy who abandons his friends and stabs them with cursed daggers, and they both deserve better than him i.e. each other

rand, pining, because he has a crush on both mat and elayne but he's on the other side of the world and thinks they'll fall in love with each other while they're on a roadtrip together (because who wouldn't fall in love with either of them?), and so much the better since he could only ever bring danger and pain into their lives, and they both deserve better than him i.e. each other

now, whether thom genuinely does think rand and mat are dating and it genuinely is an accident that he only ever mentions this in elayne's hearing and never in mat's, or whether he knows exactly what he's doing and is causing problems on purpose..........well, who will ever know?

[gabessquishytum]

I love warprize Hob, but I’ve been craving some reluctant Prince Consort Hob for a while now.

When Dream’s kingdom conquers Hob’s father’s lands, Dream declares that he will marry Prince Hob. Hob knows why. It’s much easier to rule a newly conquered population if they can connect the new dynasty to the old one. He’s the deposed king’s only remaining, legitimate child. He’s the only option. It makes sense.

His new husband is cold and distant. He says very little to Hob, though seems to trust him enough to sort out court disputes and give him other minor duties.

Even when he comes to Hob’s bedroom, he hardly says a word, though he’s at least considerate of Hob’s pleasure. In fact, he seems to find most pleasure in watching Hob fall apart underneath him.

Hob is resigned to spending the rest of his life in this relatively lonely and loveless existence. Doing his duty to protect what’s left of his people. And even though the sex is mind blowing, he doubts that will last. Dream will no doubt take a mistress at some point.

What Hob’s not aware of is that Dream has been head over heels for him since he first saw the Prince fight valiantly with his army against Dream’s, while Hob’s father cowered in a castle.

Dream is just really bad at letting his mask slip enough to show Hob how he feels. Against Matthew and Lucienne’s advice, he had sex with Hob on their wedding night. They had suggested Dream give Hob a chance to get to know him and his feelings, but Dream felt that if he could only give Hob enough orgasms, then surely Hob would realise how he felt without having to go through the mortifying ordeal of expressing himself.

Cue misunderstandings and a long drawn out courtship. Eventually, after a lot of mishaps they get their happily married life.

This is so good!!!! I really like the idea of them having this amazing, earth shatteringly good sex life, while absolutely just never talking or interacting properly for any other aspect of their marriage. Hob doesn't know whether to feel grateful (at least he's getting orgasms) or just straight up used. He's definitely just waiting for the day that Dream stops bothering to show up at his bedroom at all.

He gets so antsy and fed up with the whole situation that it blows up into a (unfortunately public) fight. Hob just wants to know why Dream is fucking him but not fucking talking to him! And Dream really doesn't want to have this conversation because he's convinced that his personality is so terrible, Hob will hate him if they ever properly get to know each other. Well, Hob isn't letting it slide! Right in front of the court he demands to know why he is being used as a husband, but not respected like one!

Dream turns bright red and drags Hob off to somewhere more private, and he's all "how dare you embarrass me!" And Hob is all "if you don't want me just send me away" and Dream is like "I can't do that because I LOVE YOU."

*crickets chirping*

Things are rather different after all that. Hob gets the proper courting he deserves. Dream slowly but surely opens up to his husband. They did try to temporarily suspend their bedroom activities to focus on other parts of their relationship, but that barely lasted 48 hours.

And yes, Dream does have a terrible personality, but it turns out that Hob loves him anyway!

[theforgottenmcrmy]

Storms (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

᯽ Part 1 of this story, “Safety”, can be read HERE.᯽

᯽ Part 2 of this story, “Captivated”, can be read HERE.᯽

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, violence, references to a sick parent, death of minor characters.

Word Count: 7,800 ish.

Summary: A royal wedding should be a joyous occasion for the realm- but there’s something ominous in the air. Dark clouds linger over the royal family, and the rest of Westeros. Even you may not be able to make it through what lies ahead unscathed... Fortunately, you’ve found someone who you know you can count on to always be by your side.

A/N: Y’all... I’m still shooketh over here.🥲🖤 I really appreciate all the support so very much. I’ll keep writing for this as long as I have ideas and as long as there’s a want for it. If anyone is interested, I highly recommend listening to The Green Dress score while reading the second half- it’s what I did while writing it. The score is just *chef’s kiss* and sets the tone for the whole feast so well. I hope you all enjoy, and please feel free to let me know what you think!

PS, before you come after me because of the little time jump, I politely ask that you keep reading... I didn’t skip over *the scene*, I promise!😂

The winds of change had come to blow through Westeros.

Princess Rhaenyra’s tour of the Seven Kingdoms in search of a future King Consort had abruptly come to an end. Though the death of one of the suitors during Lord Boremond’s host at Storm’s End would have put a tainted mark on the remainder of her tours to come, the Princess had declared the tour over herself shortly thereafter… Despite the two months of traveling that remained.

Prince Daemon had finally returned from his war in the Stepstones, and presented King Viserys with the crown he had been bestowed upon him following his victory. The two Targaryen brothers reunited in a touching scene witnessed by most of the Court. He was welcomed at Court once more… until one day, he wasn’t.

Following an incident that you did not know the entire truth of, though you wouldn’t have spoken of it if you did know, the King had exiled him again. You could tell Princess Rhaenyra grieved the absence of her uncle once more, but then Ser Criston Cole had been suddenly much more attentive to her…

King Viserys had dismissed Lord Otto Hightower from his duties as Hand of the King, an event that had not only generated a large amount of whispers among the Reach, but among the other kingdoms as well. The King had appointed Lord Lyonel Strong in his stead.

Following Princess Rhaenyra’s denouncement of the tour, King Viserys had arranged the marriage for her with Ser Laenor Velaryon. Like a few others at Court, you had heard rumors of her cousin’s… preferences, and were worried, though it was not your place to offer up your opinion on. Eventually, she noticed your reservations, and had subtly, but full-heartedly, assured you that she and Ser Laenor had reached an arrangement. Besides, King Viserys’ mind was made up, and Princess Rhaenyra did not try to change it. Despite your initial hesitation, you shared the opinion of King Viserys- the match was a good one. Uniting the two branches of the Targaryen House and healing old wounds could only bode well for the dynasty.

From then on, you threw yourself into your work even more, supporting Princess Rhaenyra in any way you could with the royal wedding preparations. It kept you very busy, but you were grateful for something else to focus on.

After many weeks of planning and preparation, the week of the royal wedding celebration had finally arrived.

You and Princess Rhaenyra stood on a balcony amongst the far end of the palace gardens, looking over Blackwater Bay in the distance. Though Ser Criston Cole may have accompanied you previously, he had not chosen to this time. He’d been standoffish lately, and regarded Princess Rhaenyra with much more formality than you were used to seeing him display. Something had happened between them, you deduced… but, much like the circumstances that led to the sudden exile of Prince Daemon, you knew better than to ask unless the Princess spoke of it first.

Both of you watched in comfortable silence as ships, almost all of them bearing the Velaryon coat of arms, sailed toward King’s Landing. The vessels spanned as far back and across the water as your eyes could see. The fleet appeared to be moving slowly- but you knew that to be a fallacy. In what would be no time at all, the Princess’ betrothed, his family, most of their household, and various bannermen and members of the guard would make land.

An odd whistling noise ran out from the sky. You tilted your head upwards, as did Princess Rhaenyra, and three large, majestic beasts broke through the clouds up above. The three dragons and their riders flew downwards, their wings skimming the water between ships before flying up ahead.

Princess Rhaenyra pointed to one, then another, and finally, the third. “There’s Seasmoke… Meleys… and of course, Vhagar.”

More whistling could be heard as the dragons flew over the castle, rustling the trees and shrubbery around you with the wind. They descended from the sky before finally disappearing from view- presumably landing in the periphery of the Dragon Pit.

Dragons were fascinating creatures, but they were still terrifying. Unlike many others throughout the Seven Kingdoms, you were glad not to have been born a Targaryen… No one had ever heard of someone being burned or eaten alive by roses.

You would have been content to stay there and watch the incoming ships sail into the bay with the Princess until the sun set, but you knew you both had duties to attend to elsewhere. You looked over at her with an apologetic look.

“We should return to your chambers soon, Your Grace. The earlier you are dressed and ready, the better.”

It went without saying that Princess Rhaenyra being late to the welcome feast would simply be unacceptable.

“We will, shortly,” she promised distractedly, her focus having returned to the bay.

You felt sympathy for her. You had a feeling that, would it have been possible, Princess Rhaenyra would have had heirs for her line whilst forgoing marriage altogether. Alas, not even the Targaryens were that magical, and a King Consort would be needed for some things.

“Princess Rhaenyra… Lady Y/N.”

The pair of you turned around to face the third party who had joined you.

“Ser Harwin!” Princess Rhaenyra gleamed, before looking at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “To what do we owe the pleasure, My Lord?”

Ser Harwin smiled patiently. “A messenger informed me that you had requested my presence, Your Grace.”

“Did I?” Princess Rhaenyra feigned, looking at you with mock confusion. “Well, I simply cannot recall why I may have done that… My sincerest apologies, Ser Harwin.”

“No apologies needed, Your Grace,” Ser Harwin assured her cordially.

His eyes drifted calmly over to you. In a flash, you caught a wink he sent in your direction, causing your eyes to fall to the dirt path beneath you.

“Well,” Princess Rhaenyra said then, taking a few steps away from the balcony and back into gardens. “You are absolutely correct, Lady Y/N- I should return to my chambers and get ready for the feast at once.”

“Would you like me to go with you, Your Princess?” you asked her, though you already knew her answer.

Princess Rhaenyra came to a stop beside Ser Harwin and vaguely waved you off over her shoulder. “No, no, no. Take your time. The girls will assist me until you arrive.”

Ser Harwin looked amused.

“As you wish, Your Grace,” you called to her, smirking.

“Princess,” Ser Harwin nodded her respectfully as she proceeded to walk away and head back towards the Red Keep.

Such had been a little “game” of hers as of late. The Princess seemed to take far too much amusement out of summoning the knight nicknamed Breakbones, finding a convenient reason to excuse herself, and leaving the two of you alone. Though her game had the potential to create quite the scandal for the pair of you, should you be spotted together in a compromising scene without any escort, you knew without a doubt that Princess Rhaenyra meant no harm. In fact, you were rather grateful for her meddling ways.

Once the Princess was out of earshot, Ser Harwin took a step forward, closing the distance between you. He nodded to you in greeting, but when he spoke this time, his tone was far more tender than it had been just a few moments before.

“My Love.”

You tilted your head upwards to look at him better. The mere sight of him caused you to smile so widely that it felt as though your face might go numb from the joy you were trying to contain. “Dearest.”

Of all the changes that had been occurring in Westeros, none had bore more of an impact on or immersed as much as your newfound courtship with Ser Harwin Strong.

“You look breathtaking today, as usual.”

Your cheeks burned. “Thank you, My Lord.”

You still weren’t used to Ser Harwin’s praises, but part of you hoped you never would be. The fluttering you felt in your stomach upon hearing the sweet words reminded you just how much you cared for the man in front of you.

You attempted to joke, “If you think of me as beautiful now, you should see me in the gown I am to wear to the feast.”

Ser Harwin happily took the bait. “I assure you, I have been counting down the hours until my eyes are blessed with the sight.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling any wider. You took a moment to glance around you, ensuring that the two of you were alone. Once you were confident that you would not be heard, or overseen, you took another step closer towards the man that held your heart, extending your hands outwards to him as you did so.

Ser Harwin took his hands in your own hands with practiced ease. His hands were calloused from years of training and fighting, but you wouldn’t have changed that. The feel of your intertwined hands was grounding… and you needed to be grounded whenever you spoke with him lately, as his words tended to leave you bogged in an enamored daze.

His eyes, which looked upon you with nothing but the utmost care, tended to cloud your mind terribly, too.

“You look particularly happy today,” you noted, an unspoken question lingering in your tone.

“Seeing My Lady does tend to uplift my spirits,” Ser Harwin admitted playfully, his thumbs running lightly over the back of your hands.

You gave him an equally playful stern look. “My Lord,” you chided, laughing once. “You are a charmer, I will grant you that… But you know that is not what I meant.”

Ser Harwin gently raised one of your hands to his lips, placing a gentle kiss upon it. The action would normally have caused you to nearly swoon, but you pushed onwards, desperate for an answer to your question.

“Harwin,” you plead, lowering your voice as you addressed him informally, in the hope that it might cause him to focus. It worked- something shifted within his eyes, and suddenly, he looked more alert, more attentive.

“Please tell me,” you asked of him, “Has there been any news?”

The news which you sought was that of your impending betrothal.

Much had happened in both of your personal lives since Derron Tyrell’s visit to King’s Landing some time ago. Ser Harwin Strong’s letter that he’d written to your father had compelled your brother to travel to discuss the matter with him, and his father, Lord Lyonel, in person. Upon his arrival, your brother’s first inquiry in the matter was as to whether a betrothal to Ser Harwin was something you truly desired.

The Strongs were a noble family, and Harrenhal was the largest castle in all of Westeros, despite the ghastly tales. It was also worth mentioning that Harwin was now son to the newly appointed Hand of the King. But you were the only daughter of Lord Larris Tyrell, Defender of the Marshes, Lord Paramount of the Reach, Warden of the South… and all those other titles. You were from the Great House of the Reach, and Ser Harwin, while the oldest son and heir, was of a smaller noble house from the Riverlands. Not to mention that the Hand of the King was not a position that guaranteed any permanency.

Your father and brother had long since decided that they would choose a suitor for you, but they had also made no promises about denying you a suitor who they deemed as unworthy. They both wanted reassurance that this marriage would bring you true happiness, and not one arranged merely because Ser Harwin Strong had been the first to make an offer. After all, there were more advantageous matches for you that could be made… and there had been a mention of a certain Lannister or two.

You attempted to tell your brother about how your attachment to Ser Harwin, and his to you, had developed. You hoped it might explain why Ser Harwin had been compelled to write such a letter.

“Am I to understand this is a love match, then?” your brother had asked then, hopefully.

It most certainly was.

You could still recall the scene in your mind…

…

Your heart pounded in your chest. You had sent word through a personal messenger, one whom the Princess used frequently for her own devices when subtlety and discretion was of the utmost importance.

Ser Harwin must have gotten your message, as he was already waiting for you out in the castle gardens, in the exact secluded spot where you had requested to meet with him.

“Lady Y/N… I heard the Red Keep welcomed a visitor from the Reach today,” he jested, visibly nervous once more, just as he had been when you had spoken with him last. “Perhaps they are an acquaintance of yours?”

You wordlessly withdrew the letter, which you had clutched tightly in your fist, and presented it to him. “This letter… This letter that you wrote to my father. What does this mean?”

“Have you read it?” he asked, eyeing the parchment with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

“Please,” you begged. “I have spent the better part of my memory believing that you were taken with and about to be betrothed to another. My heart simply cannot take any more jests or delays at its expense… Speak plainly, My Lord. What does this letter mean?”

Upon the seriousness of your tone, which was a far cry from your usual playful banter and jovial attitudes the two of you had exchanged, Ser Harwin fell quiet, and his nerves immediately dissipated. You heard his jaw close, and for a moment, as he looked down at you with gravity in his eyes and upon his face, you feared he might not speak at all.

When he did, he spoke in a very calm voice.

“I can make my intentions very plain to you, My Lady,” he vowed. “If you will grant me permission to do so.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you were slightly off put by his choice of phrasing. “Of course, but-”

Ser Harwin silenced you by leaning down and capturing your lips with his own.

You froze, unsure of how to react to the foreign gesture. Before your brain or heart could fight for control of your next move, Ser Harwin withdrew from you, leaving you stunned, and, to your mild embarrassment, gawking up at him.

“You have captivated me, and stolen my heart right out from my chest. I know I have wronged you by not admitting this truth to you first, as I had intended. As punishment, know that my heart is yours to do with as you see fit… Though I would dare to beg you for mercy, Y/N. If you feel the same for me as I do for you, I ask that you grant me an honor which I most likely do not deserve, but will strive everyday for the rest of my life to be worthy of… I ask that you pledge yourself to me, and become my wife.”

…

How could the truth have been right in front of your eyes for so long, and yet you had mistaken it for something else entirely?! It was a folly you would not soon let yourself live down, that much was for certain.

“And, should you not feel the same,” Ser Harwin continued, noting your silence, “and I have now wronged you in more ways than one, you need only say so. I shall leave you at once, and without a word. We shall never speak of this aga-”

With a newfound sense of courage you did not know you possessed, you stood up on your toes, and kissed the man you loved right back.

It was Ser Harwin’s turn to be silenced.

There was no telling how long the pair of you stayed out that night, tucked away from the rest of the Red Keep and all of King’s Landing, just enjoying being in the presence of each other. But there was one more moment you recall definitively.

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

“Also, my answer is yes.”

“I… hoped as much, My Lady.”

 …

You almost let out a wistful sigh. The memory of that night was still clearly visible in your mind’s eye, just as clear as Harwin was now, standing before you.

Had you both been commoners, you would have already been wed. Ser Harwin had admitted as much, and you agreed. But as both of your families were of the nobility, the two of you were forced to wait as your fathers negotiated the finer details of the exchange instead.

After your brother had learned the truth of your feelings, and after having a private conversation with Ser Harwin shortly after, Derron met with Lord Lyonel to begin the discussions. But, as your father was to be made privy to every detail, the negotiations had not been complete by the time your brother was due to return to Highgarden.

Lord Lyonel Strong had presented your brother with the details of his most recent offer, and shortly after, you returned to Highgarden with your brother to see your father. You were glad to visit him, and to learn that his health had improved from what you had last heard and feared. Your father was happy to see you too- not only as a faithful and dutiful servant to Princess Rhaenyra, but also as a woman who was soon to be wed to her love, an honorable knight who was more than capable of providing for and protecting her.

Your father reviewed the offer made by Lord Lyonel, and wrote his own counteroffer. You presented it to Lord Lyonel upon your return to King’s Landing, and the waiting began. Since then, for a long few weeks, ravens flew from King’s Landing to Highgarden and back, many, many times, as the negotiations continued.

The issue of your dowry proved to be a significant hurdle. At first, Your father couldn’t help but be a little suspicious of the Strongs’ motives with the proposed alliance. Throughout all the Seven Kingdoms, the Tyrells were second in wealth only to the Lannisters. You knew that acquiring wealth was the last thing on Ser Harwin’s mind when confessed his feelings to you, and he’d said as much several times since. But eventually, a dowry amount was settled upon that was found to be acceptable for both families. There was an additional stipulation- all of the funds were to go towards repairs to Harrenhal and its surrounding grounds. The hope was that doing so would make the castle safer for you and your husband… and eventually, your children.

Since then, the negotiation points had been of little concern to either of you: where the wedding would take place, who would pay for what parts of the celebration, where you would spend parts of the year, and what surname your children would have. It was all trifling. Both you and Ser Harwin just wanted the negotiations to conclude, and the sooner, the better.

“Unfortunately, I have no news for you today, My Lady,” he informed you, his thumbs still tracing lightly over the backs of your hands. His gaze lifted from your intertwined hands, and he looked deeply into your eyes. “But my father assures me that they are close to reaching a final agreement.”

You didn’t have the heart to point out to him that he had already been telling you that for quite some time. “Let us hope.”

Ser Harwin looked about your surroundings briefly, confirming that you were still alone. In consolation to your disappointment, he leant downwards, and placed a soft kiss upon your forehead.

Despite your frustrations, and his own, it could always be said that Harwin never hesitated to do whatever he could to reassure you that the match between you was one worth waiting for.

“You look beautiful, Your Grace.”

Princess Rhaenyra turned her head over her shoulder and smiled at you as you entered her chambers. Two ladies- who happened to be none other than Ser Harwin’s younger sisters- attended to her. One smoothed out the skirts of her dress while the other was putting some adornments in her silver hair.

After their father had been appointed Hand of the King, the two girls had only recently been chosen by the Princess to serve as her junior ladies in waiting. They were a few years younger than you and the Princess, but old enough to have some scrutiny and tact about them, and they were eager to please. Both were already dressed and prepared for the welcome feast.

You looked over the Princess’ appearance with mock scrutiny, but ultimately smiled. “The two of you did such an excellent job… I fear I shall no longer be of service soon.”

Princess Rhaenyra rolled her eyes playfully. “Come now, Lady Y/N- how ever would I get on without you?” One of the girls presented her with a hand mirror. The Princess looked over her appearance for a moment before giving a small nod. “This will do. Thank you very much, My Ladies.”

The girls smiled, giddy with her praise.

“You two should head on over to the throne room,” Princess Rhaenyra dismissed them. “I’ll have Lady Y/N attend to whatever is left.”

The girls nodded in understanding, curtsied, and promptly left the Princess’ chambers.

Princess Rhaenyra picked up the small mirror again, and apprised her appearance once more. You caught a glimpse of her face in the reflection from your place a few feet away, and it was with a twinge of sadness that you realized how downtrodden she looked.

“Are you well, Your Grace?” you asked her quietly, subtly offering her an opportunity to speak about whatever was on her mind.

Unfortunately, the Princess did not wish to speak of whatever was troubling her. She put the mirror down and turned to face you. “Yes, all is well,” she answered, though her tone still left you questioning the sincerity of her words. She smiled at you teasingly, and inquired, “Is everything alright with you, Lady Y/N?”

You pursed your lips, fighting off a smile.

“Has there been any news?” the Princess asked, eargerly and expectantly.

Though you still were in her service, Princess Rhaenyra had become a true friend and confidant of yours. She was knowledgeable of the negotiations stalling your marriage to Ser Harwin, and was sympathetic for you.

“Not yet,” you answered, unable to disguise the disappointment in your voice.

“I am sorry to hear that… But the night is still young,” Princess Rhaenyra noted optimistically. “I bet that by the end of the week, another betrothal announcement shall be made.”

You certainly hoped so, but didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“You should get ready for the feast,” she said then, giving you something else to focus on. “The seamstress put the finishing touches I asked for upon your dress, and left it over there.”

You walked over to the bed, where Princess Rhaenyra had gestured to. Your eyes immediately spotted the gown in question. The Princess had requested that all her ladies wore similar gowns, all of the same color, for the welcome feast. Your gown was a little bit more… revealing, than what the Strong ladies had been given, but it was more suitable for each of your ages that way.

“The color matches the jewels in your hair,” you observed with a smile.

Princess Rhaenyra returned the smile, pleased that you found the gown as gorgeous as she did.

The welcome feast had begun.

The esteemed guests from all across Westeros who had traveled to King’s Landing for the festivities were announced one by one, before paying their respects to the King and Princess.

The Queen had yet to arrive.

You were the only representative of House Tyrell to attend, and conveyed your apologies to King Viserys on your family’s behalf. Your father had taken ill once more- another factor that had played a role in the pace at which the marriage negotiations were taking place- and your brother Derron had no choice but to stay in Highgarden to help him manage affairs.

Since you were alone, you had no one immediately obvious with which to sit for the meal. Your betrothal to Ser Harwin was not yet official, so you had been assigned a seat beside the Hightowers and other noble families of other houses from the Reach. You knew most of them well enough to be able to carry out polite conversation, to accept well wishes for your father, and to inquire as to the state of their own houses and health.

But you couldn’t help it as your eyes drifted forlornly down towards the opposite end of the table, where Ser Harwin was seated with the majority of his family. You caught his eye every now and then, and when you did, the two of you played an unspoken game to see which would be the first to break and look away.

House Velaryon was the last to enter the throne room, and the attention of everyone else in the room was commanded by the sight. As House Velaryon strode over to the high table, which was positioned just in front of the Iron Throne, thunderous applause rang out. Though Lord Coryls had been no stranger to the Court during King Viserys’ reign, his wife, the Princess Rhaenys, and their children were not so often seen. Everyone was eager to lay eyes upon the future King Consort, Ser Laenor, and his sister, Lady Laena.

The princess rose from her seat to greet her betrothed, and shortly thereafter, the Velaryons and the rest of their household were seated. Everyone else in the room followed suit, save the King, who looked over the crowd. You looked over towards King Viserys and waited for his speech to begin.

But suddenly, the King’s cheerful face fell, and muffled whisperings around you filled your ears. You followed the King’s appalled look over to the entryway, where none other than Prince Daemon was making his way into the throne room. Ser Harrold did not bother to announce him- he was probably as shocked as most everyone else in the room.

The whispers did not cease as Daemon approached the high table calmly, acting as though he had not been exiled by the King, again, not too long ago.

You looked over at Rhaenyra and tried to gauge her reaction to the uninvited guest. If she had known about her uncle’s impending return for the wedding, she had not told you of it- though you honestly could not say whether she would have. The pair of you had a special bond, but the bond between her and Prince Daemon would always be stronger.

Thankfully, the Princess looked just as surprised to see her uncle as everyone else, though she was much better at concealing her facial reaction than the King. Once Daemon was before the high table, you thought King Viserys might call for his head right then and there. But instead, after a moment of thought, he beckoned for a chair to be brought out for him. Prince Daemon was seated beside the Hand, Lord Lyonel, and the room began to settle from the interruption.

King Viserys smiled once more, though it was more strained than genuine, and began his welcoming speech. Unfortunately, he was not able to get very far into it, before it was disrupted once more.

All eyes in the room once again turned towards the entryway. Unlike with the previous tardy guest, no whispers erupted this time. Instead, the room was overcome with a bone-chilling silence.

Queen Alicent had finally arrived. But what was more shocking than her blatant disrespect of King Viserys was the outfit she had chosen instead.

She wore a bright, emerald green gown.

Those seated rose respectfully as she made her way over to the high table. Despite those who you were seated with- other members of House Hightower being seated just a few seats down from you- your eyes involuntarily narrowed as the Queen passed you. Just what point was she trying to get across with her choice of garment?

You’d never seen the sight with your own eyes before, only having read about it in books and having heard it in tales from your father. But you knew, very well, what color the beacon in Oldtown glowed when the Hightowers called their banners to war.

Green.

Once the Queen was seated, the King was finally able to finish his speech, and dinner was served. You still snuck glances at Ser Harwin as often as you dared, though the looks you gave him now were probably laced with little else but concern.

Once the meal was over, you were grateful for the dancing to begin, for it gave you a perfect excuse to stand and socialize with other guests whom you were not immediately seated by. Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor were the first to take the floor, as was the tradition, but once the dance was complete, the other guests slowly but surely joined in the fun.

You rose from your seat and walked over towards the end of the table, joining the group of nobles who had gathered there to observe those already on the dancefloor.

“Lady Y/N.”

You turned, and were pleasantly surprised to find Lord Lyonel Strong standing beside you.

“My Lord,” you greeted him with a smile.

“Are you enjoying the feast so far, My Lady?” he inquired then.

The question was innocent enough, but difficult to answer truthfully. Your eyes darted over to Queen Alicent, and then Prince Daemon, who were both still seated. Well aware of the fact that you could be overheard, you simply answered, “This feast will be remembered for quite some time to come, I am sure.”

“I do not disagree,” Lord Lyonel said knowingly, having noted whom you had glanced at. Lord Lyonel, on the surface, gave the air of an uncomplicated man. But you were beginning to suspect that there was more to him than one might assume. A lord from a small noble house in the Riverlands didn’t become appointed Hand of the King by mere chance.

“Lady Y/N,” he said then, in a much quieter tone that grabbed your attention immediately, as was its purpose. “I do want to thank you for your patience as this business with Highgarden is negotiated.”

Lord Lyonel’s statement was decently vague, but you knew immediately what he was referring to. “Thank you, My Lord. I understand that such matters are necessary, though I would deny that it has not begun to feel tedious at times.”

Lord Lyonel gave you a sympathetic smile. “Perhaps you are right. Even so, I will be glad once everything has been settled. I must admit, I was, and still am, pleased by the proposition. I think all parties involved stand to benefit greatly… specifically, my son. I am grateful that House Tyrell has considered him to be a worthy business partner.”

He approved of the match; that the subtext of his cordial words. But even more so, Lord Lyonel was pleased that the match contributed greatly to the happiness of his son.

“There is more to Ser Harwin than his nickname,” you said decisively. “I believe Lord Tyrell and my brother simply needed some guidance in order to see that.”

Lord Lyonel nodded courteously.

As if he had known he was the topic of your very conversation, Ser Harwin made his way through the onlookers. He came to a stop before the two of you, and nodded to Lord Lyonel in greeting. “Father.”

Then he turned to you. He looked remarkable, dressed in finer clothes than what he typically donned, and a significant section of his hair had been pulled up and tied back, revealing the handsome features of his face. You were so lost in the sight of him, you almost didn’t register that he had spoken to you.

“Lady Y/N,” he greeted, giving you a charming smile. Said smile was offered to many, but it never was accompanied with the twinkle in his eyes that shone now. That had become exclusively reserved for you, a thought that both made you feel humble and filled you with pride. “I think it to be an insult that you have not been asked to dance thus far. Could you find it in your heart to grant me the honor?”

You looked towards his outstretched hand, and attempted to minimize the love-sick expression you undoubtedly wore. “It would be my pleasure, Ser Harwin.”

With one last glance at Lord Lyonel, you took Ser Harwin’s hand and allowed him to escort you to the dance floor.

You seldom had the opportunity to spend such time with Ser Harwin in public, and you reveled in every minute of it. The incredible ease you felt with him, whether it was while dancing, talking, or simply being in the presence of each other, was one that had yet to be matched.

As the pair of you went on about the dance, turning and spinning and stepping about as the song dictated, you conversed quietly.

“You truly are a vision tonight,” Ser Harwin complemented, causing your cheeks to burn both with mild embarrassment and in pain from your amused smile. “Better than I even dared to dream of.”

“Thank you, My Lord. … But now, I wonder- do you dream of me often, Ser Harwin?” you jested, taking his hand and twirling once.

Once you had turned around, you nearly came face to face with his broad chest; the two of you were suddenly much closer than before.

“Since you asked,” Ser Harwin said, leaning down so as to speak directly into your ear, “There are few nights that you do not haunt my dreams, My Lady.”

Before anyone could notice the inappropriate distance between yourselves, you each took a step back, and continued the dance smoothly.

You were taken aback, but pleasantly so. “Haunt?” you echoed. “Am I a ghost, plaguing you with nightmares?”

“I assure you,” he said, suavely stepping beside and turning to you in time with the music, “Not all ghosts are bad. Nor could any sight of you gracing my mind whilst I am asleep ever be considered a nightmare.”

Before you could think of something charming or witty to respond with, you noticed someone making their way onto the dance floor. It was with dread that they were headed directly towards you.

“I fear our time together is about to be cut short,” Ser Harwin announced, also making note of it.

You forced a smile as you greeted the interrupter of your lovely moment. “Lord Loreon.”

Loreon Lannister merely nodded cooly to Ser Harwin in his own way of greeting. The gesture made you want to give him a verbal lashing for his impoliteness, but since you were surrounded by others, and it was not yet socially acceptable for you and Ser Harwin to show any sort of attachment to the other, you were limited.

Ser Harwin knew just as much, too. He politely refused to acknowledge the disrespect, and greeted the other man anyways. “My Lord.”

“Might I cut in?”

Ser Harwin had no choice but to allow Lord Loreon to do so, and he knew that. The little weasel.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of the feast, Lady Y/N,” Ser Harwin said to you.

“And I you, My Lord.”

You watched with mild sadness as your love wandered off the dance floor before disappearing amongst the crowd of nobles watching on the outskirts.

A new song began, and you forced your feet to move, engaging in a dance once more.

Lord Loeron, though a few years your junior, had grown into a man since you had last seen him. However, he was still a young one at that, and you had your suspicions that the passing years made him no more wise. The boy- young man- had always lacked some tact. You’d hoped his father, Lord Jason Lannister, had instilled some sense in him, as Loreon was his only son and heir. But from what Princess Rhaenyra had shared with you regarding Lord Lannister’s own behavior and choice comments as of late, you severely doubted it.

“You’ve grown since I last saw you, My Lord.”

“Perhaps,” Lord Loreon granted. “Though I am afraid that I am nowhere near the size of Breakbones.”

You frowned in displeasure at his insinuating comment.

Your courtship with Ser Harwin while your fathers worked out the details of your marriage was not exactly a secret. But, other than Lord Jason on the occasion, Lannisters had been sparse at Court as of late… You concluded that the walls must have had ears. You only hoped that they did not have eyes as well.

“I am surprised by your choice of gown, Lady Y/N- I thought you might wear green, as it is a color of your House.”

And also the color with which Queen Alicent had chosen to draw a metaphorical line in the struggle for power.

You answered, “Princess Rhaenyra deemed it fit that all her ladies should wear gowns of Targaryen red tonight.”

“A wise decision by the Princess,” Lord Loreon declared. “I’m sure you look just as lovely in gold, as it is the other of your House’s colors... Though, perhaps a gown of red and gold would suit you best?”

You paused briefly, before forcing yourself to continue the steps. You feigned, “I’m afraid I do not understand what you mean, My Lord.”

“No, I suppose you do not. Perhaps my father shall arrange to meet with yours, and they can sort it out for the two of us. We would not dare spend any longer than necessary on negotiations. We know how much a marriage to the daughter of Lord Tyrell is worth, just as I am sure you know how valuable the marriage to the son of Lord Lannister is.”

You let out a small sigh, your patience for pleasantries completely diminished by his goading words. “If that is your way of proposing marriage, My Lord, it seems there is still vast room for improvement to be had in ways of your eloquence and common sense.”

Lord Loreon narrowed his eyes at you, but did not cease his dancing. In a threateningly low tone, he demanded, “You dare insult me?”

As suspected, time had not made him more wise. Lord Loreon’s pride was wounded just as easily as it always had been.

“It is I that has been insulted, My Lord. Asking for my hand so crudely, and during the wedding feast for the future Queen, no less?” you countered swiftly. “I think my father would be most displeased with House Lannister if he heard of this, not to mention the King.”

Lord Loreon finally stopped partaking in the dance. He looked very cross. He opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by several loud, piercing screams.

Immediately, the dance floor descended into a state of chaos. Initially, you were shoved backwards, as some sort of altercation took place in the middle of the dance floor. You could not see the individuals throwing fists, but you heard the sickening thuds of their punches landing mercilessly upon the other, despite the commotion of the crowd.

You looked back over towards Lord Loreon, only to discover that he had taken the moment of distraction to abandon you. However, you had expected no less of him.

Suddenly, the tune of the crowd changed. Encouraging shouts as the brawlers went after one another turned into horrified screaming. Guards flooded the room and attempted to make their way towards the middle of the crowd.

As the crowd shifted with the movement, you were unceremoniously shoved backwards and down onto the ground. The legs of others nearby as they shuffled backwards and out of the way were encroaching upon you rapidly.

Despite your position, you heard Princess Rhaenyra cry out, “Laenor!”

A horrible thought struck you. The Princess had been on the dance floor as well- you had seen her not but a few moments before. Was she still entangled somewhere in all of this mess? You had to help her.

You tucked your chin, and used the chair you had fallen up against as leverage to hoist yourself up and off the ground. Your eyes searched the crowd, and you felt dismayed when the Princess was not immediately in sight. “Princess?!”

Before you could decide on your next move of action, someone promptly picked you up, and threw you over their shoulder.

In the midst of everything going on, you were unable to get a good look at your sudden captor. You shouted protests and fought back, kicking and punching the man who had decided to take advantage of the situation as he proceeded to push his way through the crowd and away from the dance floor.

“Y/N,” a very familiar voice huffed, before gently placing you back on your own two feet.

It was Ser Harwin.

He hadn’t been your captor, no- but rather, your savior.

You watched in a stunned silence as Ser Harwin quickly looked you over with concern, putting his hands on your shoulders to get your attention. “Are you alright?” he demanded, gently but urgently. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no,” you replied quickly. “I’m fine.”

He’d placed you near the high table, where his father, and the rest of the royal family, even Queen Alicent, looked onwards towards the fight that the guards were still attempting to break up.

“Where’s Rhaenyra?” you heard the King ask, his increasing worry audibly evident.

“The Princess!” you said, suddenly recalling what you had set out to do before Ser Harwin had whisked you away- find Princess Rhaenyra, and make sure she was alright. You looked up at him pleadingly, before gesturing over from whence you both had just come. The Princess was still nowhere to be seen. “I heard her, right over there!”

Ser Harwin looked from where you had gestured and up towards his father. Lord Lyonel, also looking concerned, nodded over to the chaos as a silent go-ahead.

Ser Harwin fought his way back into and through the crowd, and you watched with bated breath as he did so. As much as you were concerned for the Princess’ safety as the seconds passed, so were you worried for him, as he quite literally punched and pushed his way through the half rioting and half panicking crowd.

Some ways away, he bent down and disappeared beneath your line of sight. Just as quickly, he stood once more, with Princess Rhaenyra over the top of his shoulder, as he had done to you. He couldn’t make his way back through the crowd quick enough.

Ser Harwin deposited Princess Rhaenyra down on the ground beside you, and you fussed over her immediately.

“Your Grace!” you exclaimed worriedly. “Are you hurt?”

Thankfully, Princess Rhaenyra looked more upset than physically injured. “I’m fine, I’m fine… What in Seven Hells is going on?!”

“Rhaenyra!” Her father beckoned her over to him, and she did not hesitate to heed him. With one last glance at you, she thanked Ser Harwin before joining the King.

The shouting silenced abruptly, drawing your attention back to the fight.

The crowd parted down the middle, revealing a gruesome scene. Ser Criston Cole was laying fatal blows upon another man, who laid practically motionless beneath him. You could not recognize the man from here, but you recognized the colors he wore as someone who was likely to have attended the feast with House Velaryon. The crowd stepped back further still, forced to do so by the guards who had finally managed to intervene. Then, the room went still.

Ser Criston, bloodied, and with a look upon his face that had been numbed with pure rage, halted his blows.

The man beneath him was dead.

Like wildfire, the crowd dispersed, fleeing the throne room. Nothing good would come of this- at the very least, the feast would not be able to continue. A member of the Kingsguard had just punched a man to death!

“Go, you two,” you heard the light but commanding voice of Lord Lyonel from behind you. To Harwin, he added, “See to it that Larys and your sisters make haste as well.”

You looked over at Rhaenyra, who was watching the results of the madness unfold with a sombered look on her face. But you had no time to decide whether or not to try and console her, for Ser Harwin had already begun to guide you out of the throne room. As instructed, he corralled his brother and sisters and made certain that they headed towards the exit too.

“Don’t,” he told you quietly as you passed the dead man’s body, evidently having read your mind. “I wouldn’t look.”

You were thankful that Ser Harwin had strategically placed himself between you and the body as you walked by, for it had been your gut reaction to do just that. You gripped his arm as he escorted you that much tighter, thankful to have been spared from seeing such a ghastly sight.

As you passed under the threshold, the anguished sobs of Ser Laenor echoed off the walls behind you.

That evening, in a private ceremony witnessed by only the families of those involved, Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen and Ser Laenor of House Velaryon were wed. The remaining festivities that had been planned for the rest of the week were canceled. King Viserys decided that, given the events of the welcome feast, the sooner the two were wed, the better.

Despite the sense of gloominess that hung over the Red Keeps in the days to follow, personal good news had presented itself to you the very next morning. A raven had arrived, from Highgarden, no less. Negotiations were complete.

Your betrothal to Ser Harwin Strong was, finally, to be official.

At the end of the week, Princess Rhaenyra and her new husband Prince Consort left King’s Landing for a small post-wedding sailing trip.

Your betrothal was officially announced the following day. You were ecstatic- for now, you no longer had to hide or deny your attachment to the strongest knight in all the Seven Kingdoms. Instead, you could celebrate it. And you would, too- with any luck, the two of you would be wed in less than a few fortnights, a few moons at the most.

The day after the announcement brought another raven from Highgarden. But this time, the news was not the cause of any celebration.

Your father, Lord Tyrell, had succumbed to sickness. 

Perhaps the Maesters had been wrong in their diagnosis of the ailment and ineffective with their treatment… Perhaps your father knew what was inevitable, but had held on just long enough to see to it that you would be looked after once he was gone.

…

The winds of change had come to blow through Westeros. With the winds, came storms.

But with Harwin by your side, you knew that you would be able to weather them all.

᯽ Part 4 of this story, From This Day, Part 1/2, can be read HERE. ᯽

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!🖤 I have (at least) one more part tentatively planned for this, but after started writing this, I came up with another idea... So, how do we feel about seeing the wedding?👀 Cuz I was gonna do another little time jump to the next part, but now I’m not so sure... Let me know what you think!

ALSO... does anyone else wanna talk about last night’s episode?! Because I have so many thoughts... ugh. It was so great. I cannot.

***The masterlist for this story can be found HERE.***

***Information about the taglist for this fic can be found HERE.***

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[romanken]

The more I think about the choking scene the more I think it fits and is a really great deconstruction of daemon and rhaenyra's relationship... Some people have problems w it I think because they see it as daemon demonstrating his power over her and rhaenyra being a passive character but I think it's the exact opposite? Idk if this is what the writers were intending (obviously there's the indication of daemon's character- love cannot change a man's nature) but I see it as an enforcement of rhaenyra's power over him. I think what really makes it is rhaenyra's smile after daemon releases her and she realizes viserys never told him about the prophecy- the quiet triumph as she realizes she was always the first choice. Daemon may be physically more powerful, but she is (to viserys, the only person whose opinion and love matters to both of them) the prophetic savior, the heir always meant to follow him on the throne. She is aegon and he is visenya: she is the leader and he is the follower. She is the king, and he is the consort. And there's power in that! There's power, for her, in knowing that even if he has the ability to hurt her, if his anger provokes him to violence, she's still the one in control. He may be the sword, but she's the one wielding it. She smiles to herself because she was trusted in a way he never was- the crown is hers in a way it never would be his, and they both know it. rhaenyra knows she's the favorite, and is the only one who can sit the iron throne (would their bannermen support them if it was a quest to sit daemon on the throne? Doubt it) and daemon knows it too- his hands may be around her throat, but he's on one knee for her, making her queen above him. He's nothing without her- not the prince consort, not a general. Just a violent, chaotic nuisance, the beast under the boards that house targaryen keeps locked away to keep pretending they aren't built on blood. He needs rhaenyra to have real, concrete power- he needs her to be able to face himself in the mirror. Their marriage makes him nearly king, and their connection, their targaryen heritage evident in every interaction, makes him human. Daemon has his hand around her throat and rhaenyra smiles because she's the one in control- because he could no sooner kill her than kill himself, and they both fucking know it.

It's also interesting when compared to the rest of their scenes in the episode- before this scene, you have daemon acting out, arguing with her in public, insulting her decisions, generally making a scene and disrupting their marriage. And then after it, there's just the scene of daemon telling her of Luke's death which is... Completely different in tone. There's no sound obviously but you have daemon offering comforting words, holding hands as he delivers the news, the two of them turning toward the fire in unison, in harmony together again. That scene is the breaking point in realizing, finally, where they stand with each other. The power dynamic has been shaken up, rewritten. And. Well. we know who the prince consort is, and who the queen.

[syndrossi]

Thank you for answering my question! It's fun to think about aus of your fic because your world is already so fleshed out. In a similar vein from my other question, just for fun, what would Daemon have done differently if he'd found out he had twin *girls* hidden in the Vale, as Otto would have preferred? Or a girl-boy set, for that matter?

I don't think gender would have changed much about Daemon's approach to furiously flying to claim his children. It probably would have made him much more concerned about Rhaegar's fearful reaction to him/anger. (Although, as a somewhat sad nod to the patriarchy of the time, where having twin sons makes Daemon feel far less pressure to hurry into any marriage after Rhea's death, he would be thinking about it more with "only" twin daughters.)

I'm imagining his wtf reaction to both his daughters' skills with a blade. But hey, Visenya wielded Dark Sister, why shouldn't his daughters be proficient?

I could see Daemon frantically trying to find someone to teach him all the things he needs to know to raise daughters, though the lack of girl children other than Helaena means he doesn't have a ton of options other than Rhaenys (who raised a daughter) or Rhaenyra (who had been a daughter). Maaaaybe he asks Viserys for advice, but I don't think Daemon holds him up as the best example. He would love them no less than his boy twins.

Matches would be on his mind pretty early, too. His twins would be close enough in age to Jace and Luke for that to be a very attractive option--one of his daughters would be queen consort, and the other the next lady of Driftmark. I doubt he'd want to arrange it before observing their reactions to meeting their cousins, given how unhappy his marriage had been, but once that goes off without a hitch, he'd be pursuing it for sure.

(Otto, meanwhile, would be pushing his own agenda of Viserys wedding at least one of them to either Aegon or Aemond, and given how pretty both of them are, I expect Aegon and Aemond would be plenty enthusiastic about the prospect.)

They would be expected to be in different lessons than their male cousins, of course. I could see Jon loathing learning things like needlepoint when there are kidnappers + still possibly the ticking time bomb of the Others up north and easily talking Daemon into keeping up their sword training himself. After all, if someone were to attempt to kidnap them again, better if they can defend themselves!

In the world where they're split, one a boy and one a girl, Rhaegar definitely adjusts better if he's the girl, given his own hobbies and strengths. (Reading, singing/playing the harp, and nerding out over dragons are all things that are just as acceptable for women.) His younger age at Summerhall swap time helps there too. And if you thought Jon was overprotective of his brother Rhaegar, he somehow finds a new level for twin sister Rhaegar. He would 100% aid and abet Rhaegar keeping up his weapons training. Just try to keep Jon from training with his sister.

It would be an interesting dynamic if flipped, because Jon would struggle to adjust to being dismissed/discounted the way that girls and women can be in this time, on top of being discounted already due to being a child. (Not that it would have been easy for former crown prince Rhaegar either.) The world would not see him as someone who could or should protect Rhaegar; his brother should be protecting him. He would chafe a lot more at Daemon's protectiveness too, because it further diminishes his own sense of being able to protect himself and those he loves, whereas boy!Jon in Resonant mentally pats his father on the head and carries on with his plans of protecting his brother and his father.

I'm not sure what Daemon thinks to do, marriage-wise, for them in the split gender case. I think he would still try for the Jace match for whoever was the girl, and take his time figuring out matches for the boy. There's not much point pursuing a sibling marriage for children so far removed from the succession, especially when there's a dearth of Targaryen girls for the many boys high in the line of succession to marry. (Otto pursues an Aegon or Aemond + f!twin match just as rigorously.)

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

It is safe to say that Wakamiya’s appeal attracts any gender. Both men and women find him beautiful and I am still baffled with what he likes because it seems he can be both ways from the way he acts.

He knows it very well and can use it to manipulate others to do his bidding.

This particular scene shows that. One of the attendants cannot take his eyes off him, who cannot believe that he is only the Crown Prince’s messenger, while one of the women blurts out that the incoming stranger is a “handsome fellow.”

From the novel, whose first chapter is available online to celebrate the anime’s airing, Wakamiya has been described as having feminine features. Yukiya, who is 13, recognises that.

Yukiya saw the young gentleman's back: he was sitting at the writing table in front of a large open window, from where only the faint rays of light entered the room, drawing a black silhouette.

He had a lower single-layer chiton and a light cape of light purple colour, and black hair was carelessly descending on the back in waves. In front of Wakamiya, the window was wide open.

"You're finally here."

There was a rather high, sharp and sonorous voice. The young master squeaked something and raised his head. Apparently, he was writing something. He put down his feather pen and quickly turned to those who came in.

He was a very handsome young man. His appearance, breathing intellectual beauty, seemed to exude some unearthly smell. Yukiya heard that His Highness was 16 or 17 years old, but for his age he turned out to be quite tall and slender.

Compared to his older brother Natsuka, who was masculine in both physique and face, Wakamiya's appearance was terribly delicate.

Apparently he visits Nadeshiko, the true daughter of the Lord of the South Family secretly using a disguise that he’s working for the Crown Prince. Before I continue with my conjecture, allow me to go back to the previous episodes.

The Lord of the South

It turns out that the Empress would like her son, Natsuka, the former heir apparent, to be acquainted with her per the dialogue on episode 6.

At this time, Natsuka knows what his mother is after. As a monk he has an excuse to remain celibate. It is a convenient way to reject his mother’s idea— forcing an acquaintance between him and the real princess—as he must be aware of what happened between his parents. On episode 7, Masuho no Susuki related to Asebi how the present empress got pregnant, that is by drugging and seducing the emperor that resulted in the birth of Natsuka and eventual marriage.

Wakamiya, assuming that he knows this story, finds it strange and troubling that they did not send Nadeshiko to the Sakura Blossom Palace to become one of the consort candidates, but instead sent in an adopted daughter apparently of a low birth. So behind their backs, he’s making an acquaintance with the real princess incognito as “Sumimaru.” I wonder if Natsuka knows this and this has been his suggestion. Something tells me that the feud between the brothers is just for show, so as to deceive the warring factions in the imperial court, and they are working together. After all, both of them know that their existence is only an extension of their families’ power. And to cut it off, one must fight the enemies within their circles.